A Place with No Name
by SouthernMic
Summary: What happens when Emma is thrown into Storybrooke's beginning after a disastrous encounter with Cora? Becomes AU given the story content, but follows a fair amount of season 1. Swan Queen - Emma/Regina, Emma/Evil Queen.
1. Chapter 1

A Place with No Name

Chapter1

She hit the woodland floor with such force that it knocked the breath from her. Curling up into a wheezing ball, she hugged her knees to her chest. After several long seconds of gagging, her breathing and heart rate starting to slow to a more manageable level. Now that the immediate need to breath had passed, she could focus on her surroundings.

She became aware of the nettles beneath her right cheek, the damp sticking of leaves against her throat. Pressing against the cool, wet earth, she tried to sit up amongst the moss-covered undergrowth. Blinking against the bright spots of light that filtered down from the thick treetop, she tried to get her bearings.

Emma tried to focus, to sort the jumble of threadbare memories that filled her mind. The last thing she remembered…

_ Gold stood across from her, his face blood stained and exhausted. He reached forward over the glass-topped counter, taking her trembling, pale fingers. _

"_I can only save one of you and Snow has made her choice." _

_ The Savior blinked at him in confusion. Storybrooke was filling with fire and death around them and Emma had come here to simply take Henry and run. It wasn't the noblest of intentions, but one that would surely save her little boy. The last of her family. The last of Regina. _

"_Mary Margaret is dead, Gold. I'm just here for Henry."_

_ For the first time since she had met the wicked imp, he looked truly sorry. "She made this bargain a long time ago dearie. And I always honor my bargains."_

_ Pain exploded in bright, beautiful swirls as the world was torn away. The pawnshop crumbled around them, debris flying around them in manic bursts of color. She tried to pull her hands free, to shield her face and eyes from the newly freed projectiles. But Rumple held on even tighter, his nails cutting crescent moon shapes into her palms. _

_ And suddenly all she could think of was Regina. She had been brave in the end, shielding Henry with her hands and body as smoldering brickwork rained down. Emma could still hear his screams as he watched the life fade from rich brown eyes, clinging to his mother as Emma tried to pull him away. The sheriff had reached them far too late to be anything other than a witness. _

_ In those last moments something heart wrenching had passed between them. Unspoken, but wonderful if it had happened anywhere but in that instant. Emma had held the dying woman close, whispering into matted hair as Regina choked. In that last second between life and whatever lay beyond it, the Sheriff had kissed the brunette goodbye. The Mayor had sighed softly, breath escaping into Emma's parted lips. _

_ Raising her green eyes to the brunette's, nothing stared back. Regina's face was eerily still; the eyes filled only with unshed tears. _

1-1-1

She stared down at her hands. Blood still clung to her nails, Regina's blood. Emma lifted her arms to take in her clothes, realizing that she was covered in burns, blood and tears. Nothing was making chronological sense, but she was struck with the sudden, pressing need to find Henry. Heaving herself onto unsteady feet, Emma tried to stand. Vertigo and nausea greeted her, giving her only an instant before she fell to her knees retching.

The blonde called weakly for her son. Her voice echoed off the lonely pines, drowning out after only a few feet. The sunlight was starting to dim, heralding the night. Frustration made her eyes prick with unshed tears. She had escaped the final moments of Storybrooke's end, only to be flung away from her son, to another, strange realm.

It took her hours to get free of the trees, crawling slowly as her strength returned. Darkness pulled at her surroundings, bathing it in inky black. As she stumbled from the closely-knit tree line, she stumbled into a deserted road. Light, artificial light, bloomed in the distance in an orange tinted dome. A town, or something similar beckoned.

Emma sighed, her battered body begging for sleep.

Instead, she walked on into the night. She was the savior after all.

1-1-1

Her eyes opened and she was instantly filled with dread. Another day had dawned, another lifetime in her self-made hell. Coming to this world was meant to be her salvation, her happy ending. Instead, she had spent the last six months wondering what had gone wrong with Rumple's curse. Claustrophobia was starting to cling to her every thought, smothering in its intensity.

She rolled over, her gaze finding the gray-lit windows. Regina had a fairly busy day ahead of her. Every day was fairly busy, but with no true challenge, it was nothing more than a way to fill the endless hours. The infinite days. She closed her eyes tightly, willing her thoughts to settle, to smooth out into something resembling sanity. Happy or not, at least she had her victory over Snow. A small comfort, but one that still sparked a pleasant tingle in her gut.

Sliding out of bed, the brunette made her way slowly to the massive walk-in closet that dominated her bedroom. Regina opened the too-white doors to reveal rows upon rows of darkly colored skirts and blouses. Muted grays and black littered every inch of her closet. They suddenly struck her as looking like darkened, stained ghosts. The brunette's hands fell away from the doorknobs, dread filling her stomach.

Frustration sparked into a bright rage. With a scream, she lunged forward to tear the clothes form their hangers, throwing them into the plush cream carpeting. Clawing and kicking, she tore apart the shoe racks, wood splintering. The tortured metal hangars bit into her hands and arms, drawing blood. The rails came away with screeches.

Finally, Regina was spent, her anger receding, but not completely. Several long, cruel minutes passed as she sat, legs folded beneath her gasping frame, fighting back new tears. She would never have her happy ending, and instead, she would be stuck living the same day, the same life, and in the same prison day after day.

1-1-1

Storybrooke was much the same, however small differences tugged at her. The sign above the tool shop was too new, the familiar chips and cracks were gone. The faded letters were bright and sharp in the morning sun. Smooth and sparkling, Main Street was devoid of the potholes and crevices that the last harsh winter had brought. Snow was a fantastic leader, but bureaucracy was not her strong point. Bits and pieces had fallen through the cracks, something Regina had never allowed.

But all that was gone. Everything was…new. And it was whole. None of the destruction she had witnessed only hours before marred the picturesque town. Granny's stood tall and well kept. The Sheriff's station was eerily still, as Emma could just make out the wild west style sign that stood proudly in front.

The town's lone gas station was to her left, and the Sheriff slunk towards it. Walking into town bloodied and filthy was only going to bring questions, particularly from her parents. Her parents. Emma froze at the thought of Mary Margaret, seeing David cling to her as they were both taken by the fire that had erupted from the town's library. Glass had swirled around them like some beautiful tornado as the magical furnace roared.

She staggered closer to the deserted gas pumps. The blonde was starting to lose her concentration again. Emma jogged around the wooden structure, sliding along outer walls before finding the public restrooms. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she lifted her foot to kick hard at the locked door. The handle came away with a muffled pop.

Slipping inside, her nose wrinkled at the smell only public toilets could produce. It took her several seconds to face the mirror. The reflection staring back at her was unrecognizable. Blood matted her hairline, turning the blonde locks a deep maroon. Swollen and purple, her left eye had starting to bruise brightly, the darkened skin inching down into her cheek. Soot clung to her eyelashes and eyebrows, turning them white. But it was her eyes that stood out. They looked haunted and exhausted.

Emma turned on the sink, lowering her battered and blistered hands to the cool stream of water. It was bliss. Lifting the liquid to her face, the blonde took long minutes to wash her numb features. The water came back bloodied and streaked with black shades of grime. Her teeth ached as her hands moved over her mouth, her jaw sore in a way that made her wonder if she hadn't cracked a crown.

Looking up, she tried to stifle the need to flinch. Dirt had actually hidden away the worst of her injuries. She looked away, trying not to remember exactly how she had come by them…

_Fire filled the sky, embers swirling as the surrounding buildings took light. Sheriff Swan tried not to focus too hard on the screams. If she did, she'd be able to pick out the voices of her friends, her family, and Cora's army. She wanted to careen out into the night, to save what was left of her adopted town. Instead, she turned back towards the tragedy unfolding in what was left of Granny's diner. _

_ Four of Cora's guards stood between her and her parents, the four men flanking Regina's terrified son. She felt more than saw Storybrooke's Mayor behind her, the brunette radiating magic in a way that made Emma's heart hammer in fear. The blonde knew it was only a matter of seconds before the Evil Queen destroyed absolutely everything in sight, taking her son and walking away from whatever mangled flesh and stone remained. _

_ Green eyes tracked her parents wearily as Snow slid forward, her face hardened in a quiet anger that Mary Margaret had never possessed. Emma was still struck by how different this version of her mother was from the mild-mannered best friend she had lived with for so many months. Sword lifted at shoulder height, the blade blinding in the fire-lit dimness around them. Fierce. _

_ And in an instant, the room exploded in motion. David thrust forward, his body lengthening smoothly as his weight followed the gleaming steel. His wife was nothing more than a blur of motion as two of the guards disappeared into a bloody pile of armor. The guards for their part were far too slow in their reaction, their gestures clumsy and sluggish. Heavy armor held them back, useless in close combat such as this. _

_ The one closest to the Sheriff swung at her in a shaky arch, his sword skimming along her leather jacket, tearing fabric and skin. Emma continued to propel herself forward, the barstool she somehow found in her too pale hands connecting with his faceplate. Pain vibrated up into her arms as the armor gave way, the guard sagging uselessly. _

_ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Regina plunge purple stained hands into the sole remaining soldier, something that looked a lot like hateful glee disfiguring the brunette's features. Henry eyes bugged at the sight, his mouth slackened in horror. Gathering him up tightly, the breath escaping him in a painful gust, Emma turned them away from the Mayor's now gargling victim. Their eyes caught, a darkened understanding passing between them. _

_ Emma couldn't stop herself from shivering, a sickly sweet sensation tickling her libido. She clamped down on the bright spark of need. Regina was achingly beautiful even in cruelty. And not for the first time, the sheriff found herself wanting anything and everything those dark eyes promised. _

_ Looking around frantically, the blonde tried to shield the young boy from the growing fire spreading along the red leather booths. Following the long, straight line of tables, she froze as she caught sight of her mother. Henry whimpered as her fingers tightened, knotting into his thin sweatshirt. Charming was on his knees as Snow stared vacantly into the restaurants charred ceiling. A shortened axe was buried deep inside her chest, its double-headed blade almost disappearing between the brunette's delicate ribs. _

_ Emma's knees almost gave way, shock punching her square in the stomach. It took several; precious seconds for her to tear her eyes away. David was already coming apart, his breath coming in agonized gasps. The sound tore at her heart, picking apart what little love she had found in Storybrooke. _

_ She went back to searching, pleading with the fates for a way to get her son and maybe what was left of her family, to safety. Weak light filtered in through the wide windows that flanked the swinging double doors that led out into the war torn street. The doors themselves were actively melting, the heat warping the corrugated metal with ease. _

_ Taking a deep, settling breath, Emma lifted Henry's trembling body. She wanted to reassure him, to let him know that all of this would simply fade away into the coming dawn. It would have been a lie. Instead, all she could offer him was a few moments of safety at the expense of his sanity. She stole a quiet kiss, brushing his hair with soft lips. _

_ Pain flared in her aching shoulders as she chucked the trembling boy through the window, the glass exploding out into the street. Regina screamed something, her voice rough with worry as the brunette launched herself after her son. The Savior started to follow, but staggered to a clumsy halt. She turned back slowly. Charming still sat cradling Mary Margaret, his eyes never leaving the woman he had spent almost his entire adult life finding._

"_David."_

_He didn't move. She swallowed against the painful lump lodged in the back of her throat. She tried again._

"_Dad."_

_He finally looked up, his face awash in devastation._

"_Go. I can't be without her." David looked around, tracking the smoke and dancing flames that were quickly filling the small store. He looked back at his daughter, trying to muster a reassuring smile. _

"_I'm not strong enough without her." He bent down to kiss his wife's head, burying his nose in brunette locks. His muffled voice barely reached her. "I'm sorry."_

_ Emma turned away as tears threatened. Anger had started to replace her overwhelming sense of loss. She had lost one parent through violence and another through an unwillingness to go on. The blonde wasn't sure she wouldn't end up hating the man if only for the fact that she'd eventually need to tell Henry that his grandfather had merely given up. _

_ Throwing herself through the shattered window, Emma flew from the fire-filled restaurant. Glass nicked at her hair and hands. She landed with a crunch, feet sliding along the slivers of debris. Regina had already helped Henry to his feet; her hands brushing over him, knocking free glass and still-glowing embers. The brunette pulled the boy close, hugging him tightly to her as she kissed the crown of her head. Her lips resting on the same spot Emma's mouth had graced only minutes before. _

_ They looked up as the Sheriff walked towards them. The Mayor glanced behind her, eyes scanning for Charming, finding only the ruined carcass of a building. Henry's voice was soft and scared. _

"_Where's Gramps?"_

_Emma locked eyes with Regina as she answered. _

"_He'll catch up with us later." Something unspoken passed between them as the Mayor shook her head in angry disbelief. The brunette had never pegged the shepherd for a coward. _

_ Henry looked between them before nodding slowly. He knew better, but had seen too much already. The young boy merely burrowed into the blonde's jacket as he tried to shy away from the world around them. Regina slid closer, hesitantly wrapping her arms around Emma's waist to hug their son between their blissfully warm bodies. Curious green eyes trailed over the brunette's closed face, aching to decipher this oddly timed gesture of affection. _

_ But as always, it was probably for Henry._

_ After a few, hard won seconds, they made a beeline for Town Hall where whatever was left of Storybrooke's citizens were gathering. The small family never made it. As they crossed Main Street, jogging passed the now crumbling hardware store, a gas main exploded. The concussive force swatted Emma into the side of the Post Office, debris pummeling her as she felt the brickwork beneath her give way._

_ She lay dazed for several minutes, burning bits of Storybrooke raining consistently. Ash was starting to cover her like freshly fallen snow, hiding away the worst of the bloody mess her body had turned into. The distinct sound of tearing metal made her scramble weakly. What had once been a fire escape came sliding down the side of the building behind her. _

_ Emma closed her eyes tightly, lifting her hands in a feeble attempt to protect her grime covered face. _

_ It seared into the meaty part of her hands, giving off the faint scent of roast pork. The Sheriff tried not to gag as her mouth watered automatically in response. She shoved at the grating, fighting and struggling against the weight of it. It took her far too long to get out from beneath it. She tried not to focus too much on her blistered white hands as she crawled from through the wreckage and back towards the street. _

_ After several tries, the blonde came onto her feet, teetering and unsteady. Green eyes tracked along the broken road, biting back panic as she searched for Regina and their son. It was the sound of Henry screaming that drew her up the street. Her legs wanted to buckle painfully, but she pushed on, desperate. _

_ She would never forget his face. Every time she closed her eyes, from this day to her last, she would see his face pulled tight with screaming. His hands, his thin, finely boned fingers bloodstained, cupping his mother's face. Regina kept trying to slide up and onto her elbows, but her upper body kept collapsing back onto the frightened boy beneath her._

_ The blonde sheriff limped faster, an eternity passing before she came to them. _

_ Emma pulled the struggling brunette off their son, her body screaming at the added weight. She turned the Mayor over, pulling her into a cruelly intimate embrace. Regina's eyes were filled with so much, but her lips were set in a determined, thin line. The blonde marveled at how expressive Regina's eyes could be. And ached to see them reflecting remorse and fear. _

"_Regina, I…wish we had more time."_

_The Mayor smiled at the blonde sadly; knowing that nothing but loss now passed between them. Emma, overwhelmed, pressed her lips into matted hair, offering any comfort she could. _

"_Save him."_

_Emma pulled away, eyes locked on the face inches from her own. Rich brown eyes turned to look at her precious boy, the child that had rejected her in favor of the blonde. Regina loved him still. She was strangely happy at the prospect that she would die loving him. _

"_I love you Henry." It was starting to dawn on the boy what was happening, that fate was stripping him of any chance to salvage his relationship with his adopted mother._

"_Mom, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."_

_ The brunette reached for him, only to have her fingers fall short. Emma's gaze snapped up to the Mayor's face. Features slack and eyes empty, she realized that Regina had passed in that moment, her life leaving at her son's words. Her tears dropped heavily into raven-colored hair, creating starkly clear streaks. _

_ Emma kept her close, rocking slowly, taking in her scent as Henry's sobbed beside her. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter2

Twitching awake, Emma looked around in confusion. She had blacked out, or fallen asleep, she wasn't sure which. Somehow she had crammed herself between the sink and the door, head lulling against the bottom part of the basin. The blonde took several minutes to stand, her body stiff and aching with the effort. A headache was starting to press against the back of her eyes, muffling her senses painfully.

The Sheriff took a few more minutes to rinse out her hair clumsily, blood staining the sink in pink streams. She patted gingerly at her face, skipping over her puffy eyes and split lip. As she patted at her mouth with crumpled paper towels, her tongue stumbled on some strange, gaping hole where a molar should live.

Emma sighed. Maybe Frankenstein doubled up as a dentist.

Opening the cheap tin door, brows knitted in confusion, she blinked into the budding morning. Dread filled her chest; she had been out for hours, passed out while curled up in a filthy public toilet. She tried not to think of what exactly she had been laying in. Looking around, she scampered from the gas station and out towards downtown.

She liked to think that she wasn't slinking so much as crouching with a purpose. Emma made a beeline for Granny's Bed and Breakfast, knowing that various citizens of Storybrooke used the ancient Laundromat behind the old woman's kitchen. A change of clothes was definitely in order, even if they were of the borrowed variety.

Slipping inside with as much stealth as her battered body could manage, she took in the line of washing machines.

A dozen or so children's t-shirts hung from cheap plastic hangers along the duct-taped curtain rail that framed the low row of windows. Emma inched closer as something about them struck her as _wrong_. Pulling them apart to get a better look, she gazed in confusion at the colorful picture of _Voltron_ plastered across one's chest. While old cartoons were definitely making a comeback, the blonde couldn't remember the ancient Japanese anime resurfacing.

She moved on to the next shirt and was presented with a fantastically pink _Jem and the Holograms_ tee. Emma looked around, taking in the stone washed denim jackets and polos that were a little too brightly colored. She'd need to keep her war-torn jeans by the looks of things. The Sheriff shook her head, chalking it up to someone cleaning out their closet before dropping off the eighties rejects to Good Will.

Tugging on one of the least offensive, and obviously men's, button down shirts, she ditched her ruined shirt and pea coat. Emma rolled up the sleeves to just below her elbows, the baggy material a sharp blue contrast against her skin. Every brush of the well-worn cotton made her overly sensitive skin scream. In a few short minutes, the shirt started to stick to the more gruesome parts of her.

She sighed in mild defeat. She was clean…ish, but her wardrobe wouldn't be able to hide away the worst parts of her hurt. Finding a first aid kit or something similar would need to happen fairly quickly. Exiting the makeshift Laundromat, the Savior tiptoed through the crumbling side street that connected Granny's to the rest of Storybrooke.

Peeking over into the shrub-lined parking lot that separated the diner from Granny's Bed and Breakfast, Emma scanned Main Street before sprinting. It was indelicate and gangly, her body protesting with each stride. Main Street was blissfully devoid of early morning traffic, allowing her unfortunate gallop to go unnoticed.

She paused at one of the benches that ringed the small park outside Town Hall. Sitting heavily, slouching, Emma's head fall back against the painted steel. Exhaustion still clung to her, forcing her to stare out into the street for long minutes in a daze.

The Sheriff froze as an all too familiar Mercedes pulled up along beside her, cruising within inches of her booted feet. She jumped up, pressing her nose into the massive notice board sitting only feet away as she heard a car door slam shut. Keeping her face pointed towards the lost animal flyers, she tracked the dainty figure that had exited the Mayor's silver Merc.

It took the blonde several seconds to gather the courage to turn fully. To look at what could only be Regina.

Somehow.

The Mayor was sauntering down the street, her brunette bob fluttering. Alive and beautiful, the woman walked with a chilly, determined sway of her hips. Emma wanted to race after her, to gather her up in shocked relief. The blonde's knees gave out instead, forcing her to clutch at the leading edge of the message board. Swallowing hard to keep herself from shouting, calling to the brunette, the Sheriff tried to will the vision away.

But she couldn't stop her eyes from lingering, from following the brunette down the deep gray pavement until the Mayor came to a stop in front of…

_Graham_.

Something in Emma's chest twisted painfully at the sight of him. She had cared for him; he was the first person besides Henry to really have faith in her, to see her potential to be something better. He had given her the opportunity to be a part of Storybrooke, to no longer be the antagonistic stranger. And she had allowed that affection to change, to start on a path towards something more than just friendship.

And just as soon as their romance had started, it had ended with him gasping on the floor of the Sheriff's station, dying as his heart failed them both.

Emma watched as he ducked his head, speaking quietly to Regina as he leaned back against his cruiser. The Mayor's body language was surprisingly stiff, formal even in what should be an unguarded moment. No one bustled about them, not a soul stood within earshot. And yet, Regina looked almost pained to be around him.

Unconsciously, she trailed silently behind them, ghosting their every move on weak feet. He waved amicably to the residents while Regina nodded formally, regally. She watched as his fingers brushed the hem of the Mayor's jacket, as his head continued to dip faintly to speak with her. His desperate attempts at intimacy, and her equally desperate dodges. Looking at them now, Emma wondered how she had ever missed their affair when she had first arrived in Storybrooke.

They stopped at Granny's, Graham gesturing at the sparsely packed diner. Regina looked at him in exasperation and after what seemed like half a lifetime, gave into him. His grateful smile was painful to witness. He held the door open for her, raising his hand to cup the small of her back protectively. She shook it off hard, annoyance marring her hard features.

The lanky blonde stepped in behind them after several long seconds. She tried not to focus on the pair too hard, but tracked them out of the corner of her eye. A newspaper sat rumpled in the booth nearest the double doors. Emma looked around to see if it had an owner before scooping it up and sitting down on the squeaky red pleather.

She flicked through the misplaced sections lazily, attention still focused on the pair, before stopping at the front page. It took several seconds for the newsprint to register. Emma's mouth gaped open with an audio pop, her hands suddenly clutching the flimsy paper far too hard. Her vision had started to narrow on the tiny type and she had the distinct impression that she might faint. Fainting would be a kindness.

She blinked at the date, willing it to change.

April 7, 1984.

The newspaper started to crease, obscuring the date altogether. The last few hours started to click into place with an unpleasant logic. She had been dropped into the very start, the beginning of Storybrooke and the curse. The blonde sagged heavily. Possibilities exploded in her mind's eye. She could somehow break the curse a good twenty-eight years early, find Belle and set her free, find her younger self and save her from the cruelties of the system, anything and everything could be changed.

But in amending that future, she would miss out on the very things she held dearest. Without Neal, there would be no Henry. Without Henry, there would be no way for her to truly break the curse and set her family free. Her son had been her one, and only, source of true love. If Neal had been anything close, their passion for each other would have broken this prison years ago.

Perhaps though, there was another source of love she hadn't thought of until very recently.

Her eyes once more caught the raven-haired beauty that sat quietly in the corner. Sadness tugged at the corners of her mouth, yet her eyes were steely and hard. Even now, Emma could see the differences that Henry had made in the Queen. Olive hinted cheekbones were sharply defined, the jaw hollow and striking, the face too thin. And barely contained rage radiated off her in waves.

Having Henry had always tempered Regina's more self-destructive tendencies. And the Mayor's cruelty. Emma had never realized this until they had taken him away and she had been forced to watch the former Queen start to wither. Had seen the older woman lash out in the old, familiar ways that had defined her reign. But the brunette had been unable to really strike out at those around her, desperate for Henry's approval, and had instead destroyed herself.

And Emma had ached along with her, knowing she and her parents were wrong in taking the boy from his adoptive mother. Snow, the blonde was almost sure, had taken a perverse sort of pleasure in hurting Regina. In taking her child as Emma had been taken from the woman who would become Mary Margaret. The Sheriff had wanted it not to be true, wanted her mother to be above something so cruel and ultimately, so petty.

Now here the blonde sat, watching the Evil Queen and realizing that maybe, just maybe, she could do far more than simply break the curse. Maybe she was meant to be the savior of something else besides Storybrooke. Emma looked down at her hands, lost in thought. Regina had always had the ability and the desire to change, but never the opportunity. Maybe she could change that, if time allowed. Time…

The Sheriff closed her eyes as she rubbed at them wearily. She still wasn't sure what was going on, or if Henry had come through the portal with her. Emma needed answers and ultimately, she needed to get her son back. Or at least get back to him. She was now pressing her fingertips painfully into the corners of her eyes, trying to focus, to keep herself in the present. Not to let her mind wander back, to death…to fire…to Cora…

Emma stood suddenly. Manic, frightened energy taking her out of the diner and once more into the now-filling street. Rumple was the key, he had sent her here and he would know how to send her back.

2-2-2

Emma sauntered in, confidence in every step, the motion trying to draw attention away from her battered face. She kept her hands in her pockets, hiding away her scabbed and scuffed fingers. It hurt to hide them there, the denim tugging at the barely healed skin. Her service revolver dug painfully into her side, its hammer trying to dip between her ribs as it lay nestled inside her shoulder holster. Its weight was an odd comfort.

Gold stood behind the far counter, hands busily cleaning a tea set of all things. One cup was chipped, its gold rim disrupted by a deep divot. He barely glanced up at her, engrossed in the seemingly simple task of cleaning the delicate porcelain. Emma fidgeted a few feet in front of him, mind conjuring up the various ways to start this altogether odd conversation.

She didn't want to come out and ask, knowing that if the curse had taken Rumple as well, her questions would make little to no sense. Henry knowing the truth had almost landed him in an asylum, and she didn't want to spend the next twenty-eight years in a clinical ward.

She cleared her throat noisily before starting, finally forcing the older man's eyes to drift towards her.

"I'm looking for something."

Gold's smile slithered across his features like a snake lazing in the sun. Emma tried to hide the uncomfortable shiver that scurried along her spine.

"Well, as you can see Miss…" He trailed off, gesturing with his cane for her to fill in the gap.

"Swan."

"Miss Swan, as you can see, I have a lot of things to choose from. You need only look around and see if an item takes your interest."

Emma leaned her hip against the counter's glass, trying to muster up her most charming smile.

"I'm looking for something that could be almost…magical."

He smile grew, and she could've sworn his teeth were sharper, pointed. A predator masquerading as something less benign.

"Magic?" Rumple's laugh was rough and smeared in darkness.

She leaned closer, letting her hands slip from her shallow pockets to press against showcase's glass top. They sat there blistered and swollen at the digits. Gold's eyes flittered to them briefly, sensing the magic that had damaged them.

"Yes Rumple, magic."

His smile became tighter, wider.

"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else. A shrink perhaps? Because I'm starting to think you need one dearie."

She gave a half smile, challenging.

"I'll speak with you again Mr. Gold. We'll see what you remember then."

He blinked in confusion, not recalling giving the young woman his name.

The blonde nodded at the pawnshop owner before turning on her heel. She glanced back at the door, her green eyes blazing. They both knew she would be back the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.

One of them would eventually break. It was simply a matter of _time_.

2-2-2

The Sheriff's station was quiet and dim in the dying evening light. Green eyes scanned the empty windows, barely making out the dated flyers between the blinds. She shuffled closer to the front door, the foot of her boot flipping over the scruffy matt in front of the wrought iron doorframe. A sliver of metal stood out starkly against the pitted sidewalk.

Luckily, Graham's habit of keeping a spare key had started early.

Opening with a drawn out groan, the front door swung forward. Emma slid inside without a backwards glance. She skimmed through the darkness easily, her body remembering the station's layout. Her lean frame dodged desks and filing cabinets alike, her feet shuffling towards the small closet off of the station's lone bathroom. Emma fully intended to steal more than just hot water and toiletries.

After a ludicrously long shower, one followed with her impatiently having to drip dry as it turned out Graham was much better at hiding towels, she once more entered the station's bullpen. Computers were painfully absent; another stark reminder of the decade Emma found herself in. She tiredly scanned the cabinets around her, vainly trying to remember where Graham had kept the hard copies of their police reports.

If a boy had appeared randomly in town, unattended and scared, the paperwork would be here.

It took her hours to comb through the haphazard, physical records. Moving violations, speeding tickets interspersed with the odd domestic battery charge and petty robbery. And strangely, in the midst of all of this mundane tripe, a random drunk driving charge involving a man and his son. No follow up paperwork, no court proceedings. Nothing. Emma pondered over this for a few seconds, shrugging it away as an anomaly.

Hours passed, and not a trace of Henry. Her eyes found the station's solitary lock-up, its plastic wrapped mattress looking a lot like heaven. The blonde made a beeline for the wrought-iron doors. She sat down heavily onto the cheap bunk. Her limbs sagged heavily, exhaustion creeping into every inch of her.

As she curled up under her short-cropped jacket, her phone slid heavily onto the floor. The 'No Signal' icon burned brightly, teasing her with its sudden shortcomings. She tried to push aside her growing sense of bitterness, her growing irritation with constantly having to fight for even the smallest moments of peace. Her title as Savior was starting to chaff.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to fall into a dreamless sleep.

2-2-2

_The cider burned as it slid easily down her throat. Regina sat across from her, beautiful, and falsely serene. She hated seeing the brunette this way; guarded and expressionless. Unlike Emma who sat fidgeting uncomfortably, the brunette was utterly still and controlled. Refined. Swan envied the mask in some ways, knowing her own face wore far too many of her emotions. _

_ Even now, Regina gave away nothing. _

_ Once a week, Emma came calling. Snow had finally stepped down as Mayor, leaving the job once more to the only one in town seemingly capable of running the office. But uneasiness lingered, forcing the town's Sheriff to check in on the former Queen regularly. Both hated the exercise in babysitting. _

_ They had taken to masquerading as though it were nothing more than a social interaction, almost a meeting of friends. Regina would greet her frostily, but with the utmost politeness. Emma would inquire awkwardly as to what the Mayor had been up to. As the season turned cooler, cider had been added to the painfully halting conversation. _

_ Having gone through the motions of civility, they sat in oppressive silence. _

"_I wonder if this will ever end."_

_Emma cocked her head curiously, smiling unsurely. "What do you mean?"_

_The brunette motioned impatiently between them. "This Miss Swan. You and your family's insistence on treating me as less than."_

_Green eyes blinked in confusion. "Fear lingers longer than anything else." The Sheriff shrugged helplessly. "What do you expect Regina?"_

_Sadness seeped through the mask. "Nothing I suppose." Regina's eyes closed in a brief moment of defeat. "Nothing at all." _

_ Emma sat in silence, fighting the desire to lean forward and comfort. _

"_But fear isn't forever." Brown eyes gazed at her quizzically. The blonde shrugged awkwardly again in response. Finally, Emma gave in and reached out to touch the Mayor's hand lightly with nervous fingers. _

"_Just be patient." _

2-2-2

Coffee, strong and fragrant, teased the blonde into waking.

"I have to admit, I've never had someone invite themselves into my jail, but in your case, I won't complain too much."

Emma jerked fully awake, her limbs pin wheeling as she slid form the tiny bunk and face first into the cement cell floor. She picked herself up with a groan, using the jail walls to pull her lean body upright. The blonde gave the dark haired Sheriff a weak smile, knowing her battered appearance wouldn't help with her respectability. She threaded her arm through the wrought iron, leaning, trying not to let her mind drift back to her first days in Storybrooke. Deja vu was starting to make her head hurt.

"Apologies Sheriff, I came to speak with you and found the station empty."

"Looks like you've had a rough night…" He trailed off, handing her a mug of something steaming.

"Had a bit of accident a few days ago." Now that she had given her body a bit of rest, Emma could only imagine how her face had blossomed with bruising.

Graham answered with a crooked smile, his eyes still kind, but unconvinced.

"I'm sure. Now." Sliding forward a chair into the cell with her, he flipped it around to settle his arms against its back. "Want to tell me what brings you to our town? And what you were looking for?" His coffee cup gestured vaguely towards the opened filing cabinets and neatly piled stacks of paper.

"I'm looking for a boy who's gone missing. Eleven years of age, brown hair and eyes, name of Henry. He'll most likely be on his own, maybe even injured and disoriented. He was last seen wearing a black jacket, a dark colored sweatshirt and a ummm…" Her eyes grew momentarily vacant, trying to remember what her son had worn yesterday. Too much had happened, her memories bleeding into one massive wound of thought.

"This boy have a last name?"

Emma's expression turned stubborn. "I've given you enough details for now."

He shrugged nonchalantly in response, taking her unwillingness to share in stride.

"I'll call around, see if anyone's seen him." Graham stood in one smooth motion, draining the last of his coffee. "But after that, we'll talk more about the breaking and entering."

"Why don't we talk about that now Sheriff?"

Graham's face froze, his body stiffening unhappily. Peering around the lanky man, Emma caught sight of Regina balancing primly on the edge of his desk.

The Mayor's expression was uniquely calculating. She removed her leather gloves slowly, assessing the blonde with sharp eyes. Emma was struck at how dangerous this earlier version of the Queen seemed. The damaged soul was hidden behind a wall of savage anger, stripping away the blonde's ability to guess the darker woman's reactions. Breaking eye contact first, the blonde looked away self-consciously.

"Our Sheriff tells me that he found you asleep inside the station, which means you broke in." Dark eyes shifted over to her Huntsman, daring him to contradict her.

Emma's smile was lazy and hoping to be somewhat charming.

"I'm looking for a boy, around eleven?"

The brunette's body became impossibly rigid, her head titling slowly. Her eyes were suddenly full of predatory hatred.

Emma swallowed hard before continuing.

"Name of Henry? Would have wandered into town a day or two ago?"

Regina's smile was slow and hard, showing far too many perfect, and somehow sharp, teeth. The brunette instantly reminding Emma of Gold, worry and a note of fear starting to churn the blonde's stomach.

"I'm afraid not Miss Swan. But I'm sure our Sheriff has already told you this. What makes you think my answer will be any different?"

Taking her time to respnd, Emma's eyes searched the Mayor's face, gauging what her honesty would cost the older woman. She opted for half-truths.

"I've been led to believe that maybe you have a way with kids…that you like to take them in?"

The blonde stopped there, too much history desperate to bubble up to the surface.

"I'm afraid I've never heard of such a boy. There hasn't been a young boy here since, well, for a while."

The brunette finally tilted to look hard at her Huntsman, her voice dropping with command.

"Now Sheriff, it may be time for you to start making those phone calls."

Sliding from the edge of Graham's desk in one smooth motion, Regina glided out of the bullpen. Emma watched as the Mayor sauntered away, pencil skirt hugging her hips in beautifully designed wool. Her calves defined ever so wonderfully by the eighties era Italian pumps. Graham shook his head dejectedly, pulling on his leather jacket as he left the station.

Emma watched him go before trailing after the Mayor, curiosity and a desire to simply be near the brunette dragging her along the empty corridor. But with each passing moment, she continued to catalogue a raft of differences between this Regina and her own. Sherriff Swan also wasn't quite sure when she had started referring to Henry's mother as _hers_.

A small kitchenette served as the hallway's dead end, the distinct smell of burning coffee dominating the small area. The brunette busied herself for several minutes, her back to the advancing blonde. She turned, two steaming mugs balanced in long, delicate fingers. Emma licked her lips slowly, unsure what was more tempting, the coffee of the Mayor's deliciously long digits.

Regina handed one of the mugs to Emma who tried to push aside the sudden fear that it would be poisoned.

"Why are you here?"

Emma tilted her head, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.

"I don't know what you mean Madam Mayor"

"People don't just wander into our little town, it's a bit hard to come by."

She lifted the steaming cup of coffee to her beautifully plump lips. Emma tracked the movement eagerly.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Regina's eyes dilated, darkening dangerously.

"Try me." The Mayor smiled over the coffee mug, the gesture never reaching her deadened gaze.

Emma put down her own cup before striding closer to the smaller woman. Magic didn't exist here, not yet, but she _was_ magic in her own right. Her parents' love for each other had endowed her with natural power, protecting her even from Cora. And now, maybe it could protect her from the Evil Queen.

She brushed her thumb over the back of Regina's knuckles, willing the brunette to feel the magical energy that sparked. But the brunette's reaction was unexpected and violent. The coffee mug dropped with a shattering pop as long fingers closed over Swan's throat. Regina rushed her, slamming the Sheriff's battered body into the cement wall behind them. The Mayor was crowding her, crushing the blonde between her lean frame and the cheaply painted cinder blocks.

But her expression wasn't filled with anger so much as hunger, lusting after the power that thrummed between them. Green eyes widened in sluggish understanding; the Evil Queen had been an addict of sorts, magic her drug of choice. And Emma was filled to the brim with it. If she were honest with herself, the blonde would admit that there were far worse things in life than to be taken by the Evil Queen.

The Mayor licked her lips slowly, taking in the exposed neck and collarbone of the blonde pinned beneath her. Her pupils were too large, riveted at the hollow of Emma's throat, mesmerized by the flutter of the pale woman's heartbeat.

"Take it."

It took several seconds for the Queen to blink almost sleepily at the woman before her. Dark, blood red lips parted slowly into a shadowed smile.

"Take what dear?"

"My heart. Isn't that what you want?"

The Mayor's smile somehow grew larger, wider. Her eyes were black, the pupils decimated by need.

"Don't mind if I do."

Regina's hands were brutally fast, tearing apart the cheap tee shirt that stood between greedy fingers and beautifully pale skin. The blonde's bra was brushed aside roughly, thoughtlessly, as the Evil Queen plunged inside. Emma's heart quivered as slim hands fanned around it.

Emma had always assumed that this act between her and Regina, her Regina, would be romantic in its own way. That the once Evil Queen would be gentle somehow, loving in whatever passed as affection for the dark woman. This was neither, but the blonde welcomed the invasion anyway.

The Queen's victorious smile faltered. Warmth spread thickly from her outstretched hands, streaming towards her own damaged and blackened heart. Panic filled the brunette's face as she tried to tug herself free, to squirm away from the growing sense of white magic. But not before Emma clamped down on Armani wrapped forearms.

"Not just yet, Your Majesty."

Emma swallowed thickly; the sensation of Regina's ungentle hands buried wrist-deep in her chest was hellish. But this was an opportunity for her to show the Mayor she was being true to her word, that what she was about to say held no half-truths, or falsehoods.

"I need you to help me."

A beautifully scarred lip curled as the brunette snarled in response.

"And why would I do that?"

Emma raised a hand, brushing the back of her fingers over a soft cheek, trying to keep the wince from her own face as Regina's fingers tightened in response.

"Because I know you, the part of you that's hidden."

More warmth spread hungrily up the brunette's fingers, something too akin to love searing her palms. It was beauty and agony all at once.

"Who are you _really_? Rumple's curse was supposed to be foolproof." Her black eyes slithered away. "He'll pay for his inability to keep his part of the bargain."

Emma smiled sadly. "Me? I'm nobody, and it's all I've ever wanted."

She let go of Regina, letting her hands fall away as the brunette yanked herself free. Emma half expected her hands to come away with a pulsing red chunk of flesh, but instead were empty. The Mayor fled, never once looking back as the blonde let herself slide wearily to the floor. After a few steadying breathes, she felt the past press in…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_ Henry was cuddled up under old Iron Man covers. The sheets had been a Christmas present from last year, and Regina had been loathe to get rid of them once he had moved out to stay with Emma and her parents. And now he was once more under her roof, safe and relatively happy. The blonde was utterly silent as she watched the Mayor huddled quietly in the doorway of her son's bedroom. She had been there for almost two hours and Emma was starting to get sympathy pains in the small of her back. _

_ The decision had been a hard one, but one that had been cinched by Henry. He had referred to his mother as Regina one morning, and Emma had felt the breath leave her body in a whoosh. Rage and sadness warred with her as she stared down at her son, who was oblivious to the storm churning above him. He sat there eating his Cheerios as David smiled down at him, clapping the boy's shoulder as they chatted about Henry's burgeoning swordsmanship. _

_ Green eyes had flicked up to meet her mother's questioning expression. Mary-Margaret had heard the slip, and had smiled lightly at the small victory. But Emma had caught the triumphant expression and disgust now pooled in the pit of her stomach. She had made the decision then and there. _

_ Two days later, after a few awkward and emotionally harsh conversations, Henry was spending weekends with his adopted mother. It was Friday night, and to preempt Emma asking, the Mayor had invited the Sheriff to dinner. Their son had taken to the transition well enough, his expression flicking between his two mothers as they all ate in relative silence. He had feigned exhaustion, and they pair had put him to bed, and now, Regina was hovering. _

_ Emma left them, left her, to bask in Henry's presence. As she passed by, she let her fingertips brush over the brunette's shoulder. Watching them, the blonde had felt a piece of her anger at fate fall away. And something warm and comforting quickly fluttered in to take its place. Regina had her family back. _

_ Almost an hour later, as the Mayor had bid her good night, the door to her mansion wide open and staring, the Sheriff had to fight the urge to lean forward and kiss the brunette softly. Reassuringly. To give her some semblance of warmth beyond that of their son. Instead, Emma had nodded slightly, a quiet expression of wanting passing between them. _

_ And she had walked away, leaving Henry with the woman who had raised him. She looked back more than once, finding Regina silently watching. _

1-1-1

Granny's diner was quiet, the lunch crowd having scattered back towards their various jobs. Emma sat hunched over a newspaper, her brows crinkled as she read through its contents hungrily. Reagan had announced a new defense platform affectionately referred to as Star Wars and Sally Ride was to become the first woman in space. The Sheriff had only read about these events in history class, her teachers glossing over the controversies and lead up.

Turns out, Storybrooke's blonde Sheriff was a bit of a history buff.

She heard the door chime ring distantly, too engrossed to really notice what was going on around her. It wasn't until she felt the air around her shift with the presence of another that Emma finally looked up. Graham sat across from her, smiling hesitantly at her, his eyes still vaguely untrusting. She smiled at him reassuring, fighting the urge to wink. To charm. To revel in having him in her life again.

"Something I can help you with Sheriff?"

He looked down at his hands, uncertainty and discomfort coming off of him in waves.

"What happened today with you and Regina?"

Emma felt her smile freeze in place, the question unexpected and startling.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean?"

He was conflicted; she could still read him so easily. But what's more, this younger version of him was as close to in love with Regina as he would ever be.

"She seemed different when I saw her earlier." He scratched at his beard thoughtfully before he continued. "There's a young guy that works with Michael over at the body shop. Generally a good kid, except he has a bit of a habit."

The scratching grew rougher, his nails digging into the corner of his hidden dimple. "He's clean now, but sometimes…sometimes you can see it on him, in his eyes and in his face. He wants to lose himself again, he wants to crawl into a dark hole somewhere and shoot up everything this small town has to offer."

Graham paused, his eyes searching hers earnestly.

"And I could swear to you that Regina had that same look today."

The Savior stood with an apologetic look.

"Sorry Sheriff, can't help you." She gave a lopsided shrug, smiling weakly. The gesture never reached her tired, blood shot eyes.

Emma turned to leave before Graham's soft Irish burr made her pause.

"I thought you were trustworthy, but now I'm not so sure." His dark eyes were harder than she had ever seen them. "I'm watching you Emma Swan."

She saluted mockingly. "You do that."

1-1-1

Her hands kept shaking, forcing the teaspoon to rattle unpleasantly against the delicately crafted porcelain cup. Hot, fragrant liquid sloshed, droplets standing stark against the pristine white of the town's finance reports. Regina bit back a curse as her jaw clenched in anger. Her fleeting taste of the stranger's power had left her drowning in magic's beautiful seduction.

It had taken months in this new land for her reliance on magic to bleed away, leaving her feeling defenseless. Magic had made her feel strong, less the victim of her mother and husband's will. One had couched the actions in love, the other in lust. Both had taken away the more innocent parts of her, replacing them with a feeling of helpfulness.

Magic had kept her safe. Coming to this world without history, without magic, was meant to be her safe haven. It was the closest thing to a happy ending as she could ever expect to receive. Fate had dealt her a life without love, a life without solace. And while Storybrooke may not have given her either, it was giving her vengeance.

Now, if Regina paused for only a moment, the taste of the blonde came crashing in. Suffocating in its intensity. The younger woman's magic was sweet, warm and soothing. But something else had tickled faintly in the background, something she hadn't felt in so many years. It frightened her, this alien feeling of affection. And she wasn't sure which she craved more, love or magic.

With a hiss of rage, Regina knocked the cup away, watching in mild satisfaction as it exploded against the opposite wall. Destroying beautiful things had been a favorite past time for many years, whether they were things or people.

She smiled cruelly at her empty office.

And people were such easy prey…

1-1-1

Regina takes to watching the town's newcomer, assessing whatever strengths and secrets the stranger may have. At first, she keeps to the shadows, letting the darkness hide her intent. Her beautiful wickedness. It reminds her of the younger years of her reign, watching those around her…knowing that her husband's spies were everywhere.

A part of her laments the fact that this method will allow the stranger time to heal, to mend and grow stronger. A necessary sacrifice in order to understand what brings the blonde to her _kingdom_. However false, it was still hers.

After a few days she realizes that Miss Swan isn't terribly observant whether through incompetence or disinterest, it's hard to ascertain. So she casts the covert part of her watchfulness aside. It falls away with ease as she instead alters her schedule subtly to mark the newcomer. The curse rearranges the minds of her town's citizens so that they never know the difference.

Smaller, and of course so darkly contrasting the pale woman, Regina starts to become the blonde's shadow. Every wandering step is watched and if anyone were watching the watcher, Regina follows with a predatory smile. Dark eyes calculating, the Queen is content to track instead of actively hunt her prey.

The hunt was always all the more pleasing when drawn out.

Frustratingly, there is no discernable rhyme or reason to the woman's confused journeys. She disappears into the town's abandoned library for hours on end. She comes out holding documents and bits of aging furniture. However, on these short trips, Regina tends to lose the taller woman in the midst of Storybrooke's many dark side streets.

She doesn't worry on this too much. Nothing useful can be gained in the false records of the town's 'early years'.

Frequent trips into the surrounding woods are also noted, but serve no real purpose for the observer either. And Emma Swan visits Gold's pawnshop each and every day. This particular habit Regina finds uniquely disturbing. Does she have something worth bartering? Does he still possess his old power? Surely the imp doesn't remember his life before Storybrooke…

A seed of doubt is planted. If he remembers what and who he is, her future here is far less certain. Fear starts to bubble. Even at the best of times, his actions could be random and cruel. Regina vows to watch the quiet monster as well.

But the stranger's many trips to Granny's diner prove the most useful.

It is the long, almost vacant stares that the Mayor notices first. Swan is sitting in her usual spot at the far corner, folding open a hand drawn map of the small town when suddenly the tall woman pauses. Its as if a puppet master has stilled the strings of his favorite marionette.

Her eyes take on a distant look, focusing somewhere outside the diner's windows. Regina finds herself turning to look over her shoulder, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. Nothing on the street and sidewalks beyond proved terribly interesting.

But upon turning back, she realizes that her prey is focused on nothing at all, her face oddly bereft of any and all cleverness.

Rumple would have the same look before every one of their lessons. His gaze would falter, finding a point in the far distance. He would take several seconds before turning back to face her, his smile crueler somehow than only moments before. The imp would then announce their lesson; as if he had just consulted some invisible syllabus only he could see.

It would be many years before she would hear the rumors of her teacher being a Seer. She often wondered if he had been gazing into the many possible facets of her future, determining which lesson would prove the most useful, or the most damaging. Somehow, she hated her old teacher all the more for this terrible ability to mold her rage.

It made her wonder if this new addition to Storybrooke was of the same fortune telling ilk. But unlike Rumple, Emma would come back to herself as if pained. Sometimes tears brimmed, threatening to spill onto pale cheeks. Other times, she jerked _awake_ as if struck, only to sit shivering in a too-tight ball of borrowed clothing.

But each day is met with a new observation beyond that of Emma's seeming inability to stay within the present.

Emma Swan seems to slot into the hidden town almost seamlessly. The curse somehow ingesting her without difficulty, something that the former queen finds odd. Only those from the old world should be impacted by her handiwork. Regina wonders briefly if this newcomer is some wandering portal jumper, drawn to the traces of magic that permeate the wooded landscape of this small pocket of Maine.

Affection and fancy also seem to follow Swan's every interaction. She flirts shamelessly with Miss Lucas, resulting in a rich, warm laugh from the lanky brunette.

It initially draws startled stares from the diner's other patrons. No one has ever heard laughter in Storybrooke.

The blonde takes to having long, animated chats with Mary-Margaret.

Emma looks earnest in these moments, face and eyes straining. The school teacher seems not to notice, unwilling, or unable, to see the strange longing in the blonde's features. Regina files the knowledge away for later. Seeing them together tugs at her, makes her think of what few happy moments she herself had with the young princess.

Only the town Sheriff seems unwilling to topple under the weight of the stranger's charm. His gaze is so pleasantly distrusting. Regina wonders idly if perhaps his heart, nestled so safely within her office, can sense her frustration. If maybe it yearns to please her even in this.

The thought brings her a sliver of something akin to fondness for her Huntsman.

1-1-1

She wakes in a pool of sweat, her silk pajamas clinging unpleasantly to the subtle curves of her body. Bare toes tugging impatiently at the sheets, she slides wearily out of bed. Her feet touch the thick, cream carpeting of her bedroom floor. She instantly hates the way it sticks to her skin.

Her happy ending still refuses to give her a full night's sleep. Her somewhat unsavory dalliances with the Huntsmen prove equally futile in bringing exhaustion. Not for the first time, she wishes the curse had taken her memories as well.

She instantly feels guilty at the very thought of losing what little she has left of Daniel.

Frustration is turning into her constant companion. Every breath in this strange world seems to bring with it a new problem, a new annoyance. While the Swan woman had proved an interesting diversion from the crushing sense of _sameness_, she was bringing with her a different set of problems.

Self-control had never been a skill the Queen had come to master once free of her Mother's watchful gaze. She kept see-sawing between the desire to draw out this new mystery, savoring its oddness and magic in her carefully constructed world, or destroying the woman utterly.

She left the bedroom, ambling down the stairs, brushing the tips of her fingers along the varnished wooden banister. Sickly moonlight streamed into front entryway, casting misshapen silhouettes along the off-white walls. Regina tries not to dwell on how the cast-off shadows remind her vaguely of burning bodies.

Almost collapsing, she sits heavily on the bottom stair. Tomorrow she will step up the hunt. The Queen smiles against the suffocating night. Sleep may not come, but a grim satisfaction surely would.

1-1-1

Dark and fragrant, her coffee sent rich tendrils of stream up into her concentrating face. Marking off another few quadrants, Emma tried to keep the sickly, acidic feeling of fear for her son at bay.

The clicking of heels, staccato and somehow harsh, filled the small diner. Regina had finally stopped being subtle in her stalking, must to the blonde's amusement. But instead of looking up, the blonde found herself starting to fade.

Seeing Regina always seem to trigger whatever mental illness had taken hold the second she had stepped foot in this past instance of Maine. Emma's eyes fluttered close…

_Lights shone brightly, casting odd, misshapen slivers along the apartment's slanting ceilings. She can hear the gentle, rumbling snores coming from downstairs from her father. Emma tries not to dwell too much on how odd that thought sits with her…her parents younger than herself, sleeping peacefully below her. _

_ Like most nights, the sheriff lay awake and staring in her small loft bed. Henry was with Regina, instead of curled up nicely in the small cot they had fashioned for him in the open space living room. He was outgrowing it quickly, his lanky limbs starting to lengthen and muscle into young adulthood. _

_ As such, he kept spending more and more time with his brunette mother. Enjoying the massive, overly comfortable bed that dominated his bedroom in the Mayor's mansion. And while he never said as much, Emma knew that he missed Regina. The brunette understood him in a way only longevity and love could bring. _

_ Not for the first time, she wondered what a family with them would look like. Her mind wandered, drifting almost into a dream. Days spent at work, policing what few grievances Storybrooke could muster. Nights spent tucking Henry away to bed before tucking herself away in Regina. _

_ She ached for it. For them. For her. Longing so much for a make believe world of happiness and contentment. For them both. _

_ Her eyes popped open in vague surprise at the wonderfully carnal turn her mind had taken. Taking the brunette with teeth and tongue flittered beautifully across her mind's eyes. Emma smiled, turning over, willing herself back into that quasi state of dozing slumber. Back to the Mayor's enticing, olive curves. _

1-1-1

Emma's head rolled absently to the left, her lips tugging into a wistful smile. Those long, almost blissful months before Storybrooke's destruction had been filled with thoughts of Regina. Of her emerging family. And an almost constant longing.

Much to her dismay, Regina's interest was peeked. She wondered what could bring such a smile to the lonely woman's face. It was achingly beautiful, clawing veraciously at what little goodness was left in her dark heart. The sensation was one of the most painful things the Queen had ever experienced.

Emma looked up, meeting the brunette's eyes instantly. Something warm and soothing passed between them. The blonde smiled again, her eyes twinkling with some unspoken and bright emotion. Regina swallowed thickly, dark eyes fixed intently.

Standing, the lanky blonde scooped up her oddly large cup of now cold coffee. She smiled hesitantly, but her green eyes were still painfully bright.

"Mind if I join you Madam Mayor?"

The smaller woman tried to bristle with indignation, affronted by the fact that the stranger could be so bereft of even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

But Emma's expression was too open, shimmering with someone that called to her darkened soul.

"If you must Miss Swan."

The blonde sat heavily, her muscled frame folding somehow neatly into the small chair. Regina tried not to notice the way pale shoulders knotted nicely, accentuating wonderfully chiseled arms. Or the way it made her ache in ways long forgotten.

"I see you like Granny's coffee almost as much as I do."

Regina looked down into her own still steaming cup. "It serves its purpose."

"Either you like it or you don't."

Regina's eyes squinted in confusion. Emma took a long sip, lips somehow smirking.

"Not everything is simply a tool, something to be used or be useful."

The Queen never replied, staring instead in mute confusion.

1-1-1

Everything was eerie stillness. The woods' darkness was absolute, stifling every sound with a blanket of wrongness. Emma's flashlight panned slowly, illuminating the forest's debris filled floor. Every few minutes, she would freeze, heart leaping into her throat as her eyes fell on some strangely twisted branch that looked so much like Henry's lifeless body.

Only the sound of her boots crushing twigs and dry leaves could be heard. Not for the first time, she wondered where all the wildlife had gone. Each day and night, as she searched the town's surrounding acreage, nothing stirred.

She stared up into the bright stars above. Never in all her years had she felt so very alone.

Emma continued along the mostly hidden footpath, brushing aside the low-hanging limbs that scratched at her bare face. She was almost done with woods outside of Storybrooke, only a scant few miles of lonely road leading out into the real world were left. The thought of Henry having fallen on the other side of the cursed divide made her heart hurt with worry.

The sound of expertly muffled footballs sounded behind her. She stilled, evening her breathing to bare whisper. Clicking off the heavy mag flashlight, Emma hefted it like a metal cased club. Nothing innocent would bring someone this deep into the darkened forest.

Crouching, she waited.

Graham's silhouette was unmistakable. His wiry frame eased along the outline of trees with ease. Emma stood, making her presence known. To his credit, the Sheriff didn't so much as flinch at the unexpected movement.

"What are you doing out here Sheriff?"

Starlight glinted off his smile. She found it unsettling, this man so alien from the prisoner she had started to fall in love with.

"Keeping the peace Miss Swan. I could ask you the same thing."

She circled him wearily, suddenly feeling very bereft of anything more than a flashlight.

"You know what I'm doing. I told you when I got here what I was looking for."

Graham canted his head in acknowledgement. "But surely after all this time, the boy is either not here or….dead."

The blonde's jaw clenched unhappily. She had been avoiding this conclusion now for far too long.

"Then I guess I'm looking for his body."

His face stiffened, something twitching just below the surface of his skin. The expression of malice looked wrong on his rugged features.

"I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he's a figment of your imagination or worse."

"Worse?"

Graham's eyes squinted in mock thoughtfulness.

"A guilty conscience perhaps?"

Reddish light danced around her features as Regina continued to whisper into the Huntsman's pulsing heart. She sat hunched behind her desk, whispering into the Sheriff's still-beating organ. Regina so enjoyed playing with her favorite marionette.

"People are starting to wonder. Why would a stranger be looking quite so hard for some lost little boy? Unless…she had something to do with his disappearance?"

Emma flinched, turning her face away from the advancing lawman.

"He's more than just some lost boy. He's my son."

Regina sighed in delight. A rather large and important piece of the puzzle fell into place. As mother had always said, love is weakness, and there was nothing quite like a parent's love for a child. She nuzzled into the heart clutched tightly in her hand; the heat from it warming her already flushed face.

"Maybe you and I should have another chat at the station."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

She stretched her back uncomfortably. The air was humid and stifling, unusual for Maine, particularly this time of year. Emma leaned her head back against the cracking, sun bleached bench overlooking the slate gray water. Calming and strangely serene, the gentle waves broke against the docked fishing boats. But something clung to the air, dark and ominous.

Everything ached, having spent the night hunched over an interrogation table, facing off to a strangely emotionless Graham. It had broken her heart to see him so devoid of quiet charm, as he kept asking the same questions over and over again. The questions themselves were biting, bordering on cruel. They somehow reeked of Regina.

Had she murdered her son?

Had some random lover killed him instead?

Maybe she had killed him to hide something far more nefarious. Would they find his body broken and…interfered with? And with that, she had finally lost her temper, cursing him and his godforsaken town. He had said nothing in response, his dark eyes still and empty.

She had left the station with the breaking dawn, Graham filling the outer doorway, watching Emma walk slowly down the street. It had unnerved her, fighting the urge to constantly turn and check to make sure he wasn't still staring. Gooseflesh covered her until she found herself at one of Storybrooke's many piers.

Emma wasn't sure how much time had passed since then.

Stretching, her knees cracked painfully before bringing blissful release. She gave the water one last passing glance before turning. And froze. Regina stood there, eerily quiet, shoulders slightly hunched like a wolf sizing up prey. The blonde gave her a pointed look before veering away, making a haphazard beeline for the lonely road leading back to town.

Only Regina's eyes moved, tracking, calculating. It was deeply unsettling, making the Savior's clammy skill crawl. Emma sped up, giving the brunette a wide berth.

"Still no sign of the child?"

The blonde's steps faltered. There was no way under the cursed sun that Graham hadn't spoken with her. Hadn't told her of his suspicions. Hadn't told her who Henry actually was to her. Anger once again started to simmer acidly in her throat.

The Mayor finally turned, facing the blonde Sheriff head on. Regina smiled slowly, a half-hearted play at charm.

"Maybe I can help."

Head tilted curiously, Emma swerved, ambling towards the Mayor awkwardly.

"How's that? I've looked everywhere in this fucking hellhole of a town." She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from continuing, growling and cursing at the smaller woman in frustration.

The brunette raised a gloved hand, running the leather clad tip of her index finger along her bottom lip, her expression falsely thoughtful.

"Well, there are other ways, faster ways."

Brown eyes took on a darker shade. The Mayor's breath had quickened, the front of her silk blouse fluttering. Emma tore her eyes away, her steps bringing her within a foot or so of the smaller woman.

"I'm listening."

Regina smiled wider, considering her prey almost caught. The brunette reached out, the motion smooth and deliberate. The leather-clad finger was warm as it trailed along the front of the blonde's shirt. Shivering, the Sheriff tried to step away and break the possessive contact. The Mayor's hand fisted, fingers clenching around the cotton of Emma's tee. A short yank pulled the taller woman in tight, their bodies flush.

Regina leaned closer, her breath tickling the blonde's sensitive lips. Emma swallowed, an inexplicable hunger tugging, teasing her libido. Anger and lust had always married themselves so beautifully when it came to Regina. She couldn't help herself and leaned forward ever so slightly, her lips dusting the Mayor's blood red smile. Emma's heart warmed, thudding almost happily. Pulling back as if burned, Regina sneered.

"Sorry Miss Swan, that's not the kind of help I was offering."

Staring down at her battle worn hands, noticing for the first time that they were clutching at Regina's slim waist, the blonde spoke softly.

"What exactly do you think I was asking for?" Emma raised a shaking, scarred hand to brush aside the Mayor's hanging fringe. Her voice grew softer.

"Regina, there's no magic here. The old ways, your ways, won't work."

Gloved hands brushed aside the hanging woolen flaps of Emma's long, trailing jacket.

"That's where you come in dear. You've brought magic to Storybrooke."

This time, the Mayor was gentle, almost seductive as her hands lifted up the blonde's charity shop tee shirt. Emma shivered at the delicious sensation of skin warmed leather, leaning into the brunette as Regina's hands eased underneath the Savior's ribs. Emma's heart shuddered in misguided anticipation.

The Evil Queen's hands were scalded by Emma's blossoming love. She grimaced at the feeling, fighting the urge to cringe away, to hide from the beauty unfolding before her. Magic poured out of Snow's daughter in blinding white streams. Curling in closer, the brunette breathed it in, her nose buried into the hollow of Emma's throat.

It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Emma's magic was pure, unsullied, and overwhelming. She ached to consume the blonde, to bathe in her power, and if she were honest, in the woman's love.

"Regina?"

Graham's voice tore through them, startling them both. The smaller woman shoved Emma away hard, turning away from both Sheriffs as she tried to hide away her glowing eyes. Hiding her face beneath her silky fringe, Regina's voice was a threatening growl.

"Something I can help you with Graham?"

He blinked in surprise, shuffling back at the Mayor's obvious rage.

"I…no. I thought maybe you needed help, or… You haven't been around so I thought maybe…"

Emma was trying to focus, to blink away the feeling of the brunette curled in and around her chest. Of Regina inside her, wanting her, feeding on her. The blonde pulled together her jacket, shaken, turning to leave the lovers to their quarrel.

"You're not needed," Regina bit back.

The blonde Sheriff staggered as she lurched away, Graham's hesitant, stuttering voice fading behind her. Too low and harsh, the Mayor's could no longer be heard. Emma fled, albeit slowly. She needed time away from this Regina, before she destroyed what memories were left of Emma's own version of the beautiful Mayor.

4-4-4

She couldn't bear the thought of heading back into town, her mind a jumble of memories and fear. The woods beckoned. They had started to signal safety, even after the Sheriff's incursion, a temporary respite from the watchful eyes of Storybrooke's natives. Sometimes, they offered a different kind of solace, a quieting of the demons that trailed after her.

With each passing day, her mind seemed to splinter even more, the past clawing its way into her day to day. Flashes of Regina, Henry, and her parents flared every time she closed her eyes for longer than a handful of minutes. At first they had only bled into her dreams, now they robbed her of most coherent thought.

It now took so much effort to stay in the here and now.

Emma wondered if she was losing her mind, or if this was some odd side effect of magical time travel. With her luck, it was a mixture of both. Either way, she wasn't entirely sure how much time she had left.

In the distance, she caught the faint smell of a wood fire. Emma plopped down against the damp leaves, forcing aside the eerie sense of deja vu. She closed her eyes briefly, letting sleep inch in. Almost immediately, she remembered as the smell of smoke lingered…

4-4-4

_Henry had become unbearably heavy. Emma's arms screamed for rest, muscles cramping. His head lulled against the bony part of her shoulder, causing her collarbone to pull and ache. She wasn't entirely sure how her leg was taking the added weight, but it hurt in a way that she was sure signaled permanent damage. But putting him down was out of the question._

_ It had taken her too long to pull him away from what was left of Regina. He had flailed, his weak fingers clawing at her as she tried to pry him free. They had struggled for only a few short seconds, Henry's body already too weak to mount any real defense. In the end, Emma had scooped him up, cradling him to her bruised chest. It had hurt to hold him so tightly, but she had needed him close._

_ Turning him away, she had cupped Regina's face gently before standing. She closed glassy brown eyes with the tips of her fingers, letting them linger against soft skin for a heart beat. _

_ She hid away Henry's face as they walked away. _

_ They were now within sight of Town Hall, relief starting to pour ice onto her flushed skin. The building itself was obscured by thick, grey fog. It took her a few more staggering steps to realize it wasn't pleasant early morning dew that clung to the Mayor's office. Smoke billowed from several of the windows and if Emma squinted, she could make out of the faint flickering of fire. _

"_Henry." She felt him stir weakly. "We're in trouble." _

_ Emma set him down stiffly. Scanning the area, eyes skimming burnt devastation, she blinked in surprise. The Pawn Shop stood silent and whole. The Sheriff tugged sharply at her son's hood, pulling him with her into a stuttering jog. As they got closer, the blonde was astonished at the untouched quality of the small store. _

_ She blinked in confusion as Gold smiled at her through the storefront window, his eyes eerily dark. He opened the door slowly, ushering them in as if he had not a care in the world._

"_I think maybe you and I have some unfinished business Miss Swan."_

She woke slowly and was immediately forced to blink against the late afternoon sun. Shading her eyes with a hand, she took in the long shadows around her. Emma had slept far longer than she had intended, wasting away a good portion of the day. She stood stiffly and started walking back to town.

Another day without her son had passed. Another day of failing his adopted mother.

4-4-4

Carved out against the bright, mid day sun, the abandoned warehouse was on the smaller side. It sat on the outskirts of town, lending credence to the mining community Storybrooke was meant to be. A coal refinery sat behind the old brick structure, soot clinging to both buildings. Both were in a rather sad state of disrepair.

In her time, post curse, all of the small town's undesirables had congregated here. And as the days had bled together, her searching for Henry growing obsessive, but fruitless, Emma had sought out the future hideaway. She had been homeless before, and compared to the darker times of her youth, she had stumbled upon a palace.

Through stealth and knowledge, Emma had furnished the mostly intact upstairs with a bed and limited kitchen. A dilapidated bathroom was downstairs, several days' worth of cleaning and cursing making it tolerable. It wasn't Mary Margaret's apartment, but it was as close to a home as she could get considering her lack of funds.

Weeks had passed since her strange, hungry meeting with Regina. Graham's interruption had probably saved her life, but cost her whatever time she could steal with the town's Mayor. And in her quieter moments, her imagination sought to fill in whatever would have naturally followed if they had been uninterrupted. At night, memories crowded in, robbing her of any peace.

This particularly late morning found the Savior hunched over the massive metal tabletop that dominated her makeshift bedroom. The desk had been borrowed from the town's library, the ancient wood still giving off the fragrant scent of old books. It was now covered with hand drawn maps, small, red circles marking the various parts of town and the surrounding woods.

Most of the ground that made up Storybrooke had been covered and frustration was turning into the blonde's constant companion. She now spent her days trudging along the large creek that sped under Toll Bridge, realizing that she was mostly searching for Henry's battle broken body. The thought of it filled her a sense of overwhelming loss and failure.

In her darker moments, she hoped that at least Henry was with Regina. And that maybe, they were waiting for her.

She had been shunning town. But desperation was starting to win the war against common sense. Through Regina, Gold or Graham, she needed help. And answers. While she may not have stumbled upon the disfigured body of random twelve year old, if someone had, Graham would know. And now, he seemed to understand why she was so interest in her searching.

And…Regina. Emma smiled sadly, closing her eyes against the flood of memories that always accompanied thoughts of the brunette.

_Her_ Regina.

4-4-4

Darkened and quiet, the Mayor's mansion was bathed in pale blue light leaking pitifully from the stars above. She ached for Regina, to share this burden of finding Henry with the boy's other mother. But she had to keep reminding herself, Henry's mother was some twenty some years into the future.

Breaking once more into the town's Sheriff department had been far too easy. Emma wasn't sure if Graham was just trusting, or bordering on stupid. Graham's morning jaunt with the Mayor was a handy routine, one that left the office unattended for over an hour. She tried not to dwell too much on what the pair were getting up to in the middle of the morning.

Unlike before, Emma kept her searching tidy. But there was nothing to find. Nothing unusual had taken place in the seventeen days since her odd standoff with the Queen. No lost children, and no bodies. No Henry.

Strangely, she wasn't relieved. Instead, she was almost overcome with rage and a need to tear apart the cramped record cabinets. Even a body would bring closure. And she hated herself for wishing that one way or another, this would just end.

She fled, her heart wrenching apart with the unknown.

Several hours later, she sat at the top of a random rooftop, having climbed atop the house across the road, gazing into the darkened windows of the Evil Queen's house.

Balancing precariously, she gazed out onto the town's fog dampened lights as they peeked up above Regina's tall steeple windows. Clouds hung low, teasing the top of the town's many pine trees. Squinting, Emma tried to make out the strange color that tinted the underbelly of the storm font. It was a deep, bruise colored purple, darkening to black as it curled in amongst the trees.

This particular cloud looked all too familiar. She blinked at it in confusion, her mind unwilling to take in the obvious. Emma watched as the strangely colored mist broke away from the rest, engulfing downtown in a blanket of violet. The blonde stood up on shaky legs, sliding against the plastic tiles underneath her feet. It took only seconds for the lanky Sheriff to scramble down and onto dew-covered grass.

Magic had returned to Storybrooke, some twenty-seven years early. Unlike before, Emma wasn't filled so much with fear, but with a deep well of dread. Regina, untamed by Henry's love and desire to see her be a better person, would have unfathomable power in a world with no defense. Gold was another problem altogether, but was much more of an unknown variable.

Squinting against the blonde strands that clung to her eyelashes, Emma looked up at the Mayor's mansion. Purple mist was now curling up over the long, brick-laden walkway leading up to the Evil Queen's font door. The Savior's feet trailed after the magical shadows, almost against her will. Pristine and painfully white, the door now hung ajar, the fog seeping into Regina's darkened house. The interior seemed to suck hungrily at the magical forces, pulling Emma along with them.

She stood at the threshold, waiting for her hazel eyes to adjust to the too-dark entry. It took her several seconds to make out the silhouetted figure standing atop the landing above her. Eerily slow, the figure lifted its' hands, fingers splayed, waiting for the magic swirling around the blonde to reach the upper half of the house.

Her eyes burned with violet fire, lighting up the now manic smile that pulled hard, stretching the brunette's face. Regina's cheeks were sharply defined, painfully chiseled and stark. And she was utterly breathtaking to the Savior standing below her, as if worshipping Storybrooke's resident monster.

"Well hello there, Miss Swan." The Queen's fingers flicked forward, the front door slapping shut with a loud crack.

Emma took an involuntary step back, realizing far too late that she was now trapped with the magically juiced up brunette. She had never really been afraid of Regina before, knowing that the older woman's love for Henry protected the blonde. This woman had never met Henry and could give two shits what some future child might think of her.

Without really thinking through the gesture, the lanky sheriff drew her 'borrowed' sidearm wearily. It felt heavy, comforting. And utterly useless, but she lifted it anyway, aiming for the Mayor's now diminishing silhouette. Several seconds passed, the barrel of the nine-millimeter shaking until Regina disappeared completely in a cloud of deep purple.

A whimper escaped the Savior's throat. Fear filled her mouth, sharp and tasting faintly of battery acid. The Sheriff went to holster her gun, missing as her sweaty fingers slid against the stiff, new leather. She ached desperately for her father's sword, the one weapon that had always proved itself in this weird, fantastical life of hers.

She smelled the brunette's perfume first; the spicy, clean scent was subtle, but unique. Emma tensed in horrified anticipation. Something heavy and warm took her off her feet, sending her careening into the mirror beside the front door. The world faded for a few seconds as her battered body buckled. She woke to the feeling of something, someone caressing her bruised jaw.

Blood and mirrored glass covered the blonde. She tried to blink away the crimson that stained her vision, desperate to focus on the blurred face before her. Regina's eyes were a solid purple, the brown irises utterly decimated by the magic engulfing them. And the brunette was smiling, falsely warm, seductive, but full of menace.

Leaning down, cold hands cupped Emma's cut and bleeding face, the older woman gently pulled the Sheriff to her feet. Glass still clung to her hair and clothes. The brunette's smile was beautifully cruel.

"My sweet girl, what are you doing down there?" Regina voice was lilting as she pulled the blonde closer, hands still tangled in long princess curls.

"Here, let me…"

The Savior tried not to remember too much of Henry's mother, the woman she had started to love. Knowledge of what Regina could and would be warred with the arousing brutality in front of her. The Mayor's smile promised so much as delicate, still gentle, hands pulled Emma closer by her belt. A hand dipped fleetingly inside her jeans to pull the hem of her shirt free.

Long fingers pulled, buttons straining before snapping away from the satin-soft cotton. Within seconds, the blonde's shirt hung open, revealing smooth, milk white skin. Regina smirked in triumph as her head dipped lower.

"Stop."

A hot tongue traced the heavy curve of Emma's breast. Regina hummed as magic bled from the blonde with each flick of her tongue.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I love you."

Regina froze mid-stroke, her mouth hovering. The blonde felt teeth against her skin as the Queen smiled.

"Is that so? And why, my dear, would you love someone like me?"

The blonde smiled sadly, memories bleeding into the edges of her thoughts.

"Because you saved me."

The brunette felt that now familiar, but still uncomfortable spark of love, and started to pull away in irritation.

"I don't know you Miss Swan."

Emma surged forward to kiss the brunette, tongue and teeth teasing and light. True love sparked, bright and painful, but fleeting. Not enough to break the curse that was Storybrooke, but enough to singe the dark woman. The Mayor flinched away, whimpering in pain. But the sheriff couldn't let her go, wouldn't let the Mayor flee.

Pale fingers dug into the brunette's silken arms.

"You do know me. Better than anyone else, better than my own family."

Earnest green eyes searched the Mayor's dark ones.

"And I need you to be the woman I've learned to…love."

The blonde leaned in again, desperate in her yearning, only to have pain flare brightly against her cheek. She jerked back, hands rising to her touch tentatively at her flaming cheek.

Emma pulled away completely, taking a huge step back as she tried to quiet her hammering heart. The Mayor's expression was incredulous, eyes watery and filled with hurt. A hurt that was darkening to rage. She looked so much like Henry's mother…it made the Sheriff's heart ache with longing. Longing for the family that she had started to stitch together some twenty-seven years into the future.

She backed slowly towards the door, her booted feet crunching and sliding against the shattered glass around them. Easing through the mansion's whitewashed entrance, she gave the older woman one last, parting glance. She left the door open, letting the night bleed in. She held her breath until she reached the end of the brick-laden driveway, waiting for an attack that never came.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Curling up on her side, she wished desperately for sleep. Emma had left Regina only a handful of hours before, scurrying away as dawn approached. Her body was littered with cuts and bruises, and her cheek still felt raw to the touch. But her head hurt the most, a migraine pulsing brightly. Memories had crowded in and followed her all the way home to her makeshift loft.

_Regina's lips quirking into a hint of a smile at some random act of kindness on the Sheriff's part. How her eyes had gentled, the sadness deserting for the briefest of moments. The scent of autumn clinging whenever the smaller woman was near. Warmth pooling sweetly in her stomach every time Emma caught that expression of unguarded happiness from the small brunette. _

_ Henry's laughter, true and strong, the first time they had taken him to the park. His dark brown hair fluttering as he tore after Hansel and Gretel. Dark brown eyes, somehow so like Regina's, fluttering closed as she carried his gangly frame upstairs. The feel of his soft skin as she brushed aside his too-long bangs. _

_ The clash of steel as David tried valiantly to teach her the finer art of swordsmanship. Charming's gentleness. Her mother's humming as she made dinner, wonderful aromas mixing with the lilting voice. The weight of Mary Margaret's head as she rested her cheek against Emma's muscled shoulder. Offering comfort and love with simple, warm gestures…._

Now, as she lay there in the darkness, watching the air pulse with pain, she tried not to think too much. To dwell on a world she was starting to realize she would never see again. It took long seconds for her to pick up the faint scent of heated cinnamon and spice. Crisp and clean, with the faint trace of autumn filled her small, poorly furnished room.

A part of her wondered if it was her imagination, if it wasn't wishful thinking. In the few conversations they had had on magic, Regina had once explained that when transporting, a part of you pushes forward first. The Mayor had referred to it as one's magical essence; Emma has translated it to mean one's soul. Your soul carried you through, its desires propelling the rest.

She wasn't surprised when she saw the sudden flash of purple; smoke billowing before slowly revealing the Evil Queen in all her Gucci glory. Emma merely sighed, blinking against the piercing light. It took several seconds for her migraine-addled brain to bring the brunette into focus.

For her part, the Mayor didn't move, didn't threaten or speak. Instead, she allowed Emma to take her time, adjusting to her presence.

Emma murmured softly, her eyes questioning. "How did you find me?"

The Mayor held up her hands, purple sparking.

"Magic my dear, how else?" Her smile faded. The brunette swallowed thickly, her face a mask of confusion as she moved closer to the reclining sheriff. Sitting on the edge of the Savior's bed, Regina stared off into the distance.

"I'm getting tired of asking who you are."

Emma rolled onto her back, blowing out a heavy breath.

"I've watched enough Star Trek to know this conversation is a bad idea."

The brunette's brow crinkled. "I'm afraid I don't follow Miss Swan."

Hazel eyes trailed over the Mayor's face intently, thoughtful and searching.

"When you read a book, do you skip ahead to the end? Or does that ruin the adventure, the suspense?"

Regina cocked her head. "It's a story. It's meant to be told in a linear fashion, otherwise it defeats the purpose of the exercise."

Emma nodded. "What if I told you that I know how your story ends?"

The Queen's lips tugged down into a frown. "Only Rumpelstiltskin could see into the future. Are you saying that you're a Seer?"

Shaking her head, the blonde couldn't bring herself to continue.

"You're not a Seer. And we've never met, yet somehow, you claim to love me." Regina studied her silently for several long minutes, forcing the Savior to glance away uncomfortably.

Emma whispered softly. "This town is meant to be your new beginning right?"

Looking down at her hands, the brunette merely nodded.

"Then why don't you take it? You could make this world so much better for everyone in it." The brunette sneered, lip curling distastefully. Emma waved the expression away, impatience starting to simmer. "You've made them all suffer, but there's more to life than revenge."

Regina's head ducked, eyes awash in a simmering anger. "You know nothing."

Hesitant and soft, Emma's delicate fingers tucked stray strands behind Regina's left ear. Magic, white and pure, trailed along the gesture in tendrils of power. The brunette shivered, face turning to follow Emma's long, questing touch. Thumb dipping to trace the beautiful curve of the Mayor's lower lip, the blonde whispered.

"Maybe its time to put aside vengeance and start doing something decent for once. " They both tried to ignore how Regina swallowed thickly, pride and anger tickling the back of her throat. "No."

5-5-5

Emma woke feeling strangely defeated. She and Regina had sat in stony silence for several long minutes before the Mayor simply stood, disappearing in a cloud of scented purple smoke. For one of the very few times in her life, the blonde cried herself quietly to sleep. She hated herself for it.

The accompanying night had been filled with the usual dreams of a life not lived.

Trying to set about her new morning routine, Emma pushed away the thoughts of last night. Focusing instead on the very real threat of magic returning to a 1980s Storybrooke. If Regina had magic, that meant the fairies did as well. And Rumple. But without remembering how to use it, how to access the well of power that had been unleashed, could it still be so dangerous?

Sitting dejectedly at her desk, she stared at the surrounding walls. The evidence of her exhausting searches stared back at her. Her anger bubbled over suddenly, breathlessly. Emma leapt from her chair, clawing at the walls with manic energy.

She ignored the bright flashes of pain as her nails splintered. Shards of yellowed plaster peeled away with the large hand drawn maps, Emma's tight lettering scattering in the debris. After several long minutes, she pressed her sweaty forehead to the now ruined mosaic of detective work.

This town was indeed cursed. Every inch of it brought misery and death. She curled up tightly, bringing her knees in tightly against her chest. Growing up, she had always wondered what being held by her absent mother would have felt like in moments like this.

It would be weird to walk up to Mary Margaret and ask the young schoolteacher to cradle her right there on the street.

She tried not to jump when Regina's voice called loudly from downstairs. The dilapidated brickwork serving as a great amplifier.

"What do you know about magic?"

Emma ignored the slowly ascending woman whose heels were stomping angrily up the ancient metal stairs.

"I asked you a question Miss Swan."

The blonde didn't bother to raise her head. "I didn't invite you back Madam Mayor."

Regina smiled cockily in response, the gesture staining her voice. "This town belongs to me, and so does everyone in it."

"Go the fuck away Regina."

The brunette clucked unhappily. "Such language." She sat primly at the edge of Emma's desk, the visual giving the blonde a sickening sense of deja vu.

"Now, magic. How could magic come to this world?"

Emma shook her head wearily. "I don't know. It's happened in my world but…I wasn't around to see how it was done."

The Queen huffed in annoyance. "You're not being of much use."

"I'm not the only detective in town. Why haven't you set your Sheriff on the case?"

"He's within the curse. Nothing that doesn't fit within the context of this world registers to him."

Lifting her head slowly, the blonde blinked with a slow, dawning thought.

"But he's bypassed the curse before. He can do it again." Green eyes locked intently with brown.

"You have to give him his heart back. He's clever, which is why you've kept him around for so long. But he needs his intuition."

Regina growled low in her throat. "I'm not willing to part with one of my favorite toys."

Unfolding herself slowly, Emma continued. "We need him Regina, we need him whole."

5-5-5

Jumping, her long, lean body stretching out to meet the bottom rung of the ladder, Emma muscled her way up to the wrought iron landing. The Mayor rolled her eyes at the masculine display. It was crude, but if she were honest, Regina found the display more than a little intriguing. Snapping her fingers, she disappeared in a cloud of purple, leaving the blonde to fend for herself.

Crouching along the fire escape, Emma tried to keep her head from bobbing above the windows that lined the loft's living room. Most of Storybrooke's apartments were converted living spaces clawed back from the crumbling mining quarters or refiners that made of the small town's false history. They had always reminded her of the converted cotton mills she had seen scattered throughout the South's major cities.

Flicking open her penknife, the blonde eased open one of the ancient, peeling panes of glass. Fingernails gripping, straining, she shoved the aging wood upwards another foot in order to slide through into the darkened living room. She tried to stay quiet, crouching down against the carpet on all fours. Emma made it to the apartment's front door in three, quick steps.

With a practiced, quiet flick of her fingers, she opened the door to find Regina waiting impatiently.

"How did you…" The Sheriff trailed off, as the Mayor smirked. Emma was starting to see how the brunette had come to rely on magic so much.

Turning, the blonde crouched low, her lean frame almost doubling over as she tiptoed dramatically down the adjacent hallway. Rolling her eyes heavenward, Regina willed herself forward, disappearing briefly in a heavy swirl of purple. The violet smoke continued down the hall, only to disappear under the last door as if sucked into a gasping vacuum.

Cursing softly, Emma hurried along the hardwood floors after her impatient partner.

Squatting in front of the door Regina had slid under only moments before, the blonde eyed the doorknob uncertainly. Fear of what the Evil Queen may be doing to the unsuspecting Huntsman urged her forward. She reached up, squeezing her eyes shut while grimacing in apprehension, and turned.

It opened with an agonizingly loud groan. Looking back several days later, the Savior wasn't entirely sure she didn't piss the poor man's hallway with fright.

Pushing it open completely, she froze at the sight of Regina sitting at the foot of Graham's bed. She was perched delicately, body barely turned to face the deeply slumbering man. The small windows that banked the bedroom cast uneven light across the two, lighting up the brunette's face with garish, stark lines. But the windows were not the only source of light.

Regina's eyes burned brightly, trails of violet tinged fire wafting up to meet the low-lying ceiling.

The blonde Sheriff was on her feet in an instant, sprinting across the small space in quick, frantic strides. Grabbing the smaller woman, she turned the brunette roughly towards her.

"What are you doing!"

The Mayor smiled, teeth bared in warning. "I'm just admiring my property, dear." Her eyes started to dim. "And ensuring he won't wake up in the midst of our…plans. Now, if you're done with the dramatics…" her hands gestured stiffly towards him, "Shall we?"

Emma swallowed, stepping back to let the Queen ease away from the tangled sheets. Letting her heart rate slowly return to normal, the blonde sat shakily. Regina had been vague on this next part of the plan, refusing to go into too much detail as to how they were going to return the Huntsman's heart. Green eyes looked up helplessly.

With a dark grumble, the brunette kneeled beside the bed. Reaching into the depths of her trench, Regina produced a black velvet bag cinched tightly at the top. She pulled it open with long, delicate fingers. Emma watched in fascination as a pulsing red glow suddenly filled the cramped room.

Pulling her eyes away, the blonde finally looked down at the first friend she had made in years.

His beautifully long lashes cast shadows against his sun-darkened skin. Emma leaned closer unconsciously, catching the faint scent of warm vanilla and pine. The Sheriff brushed aside the long forelock that dangled onto his forehead, the gesture far too intimate for Regina's liking. She wasn't quite sure whom this particular jolt of possessiveness was towards, but found she didn't really care. They were _both_ hers, one just didn't know it yet.

Feeling Graham's heart thrum against her fingers, Regina was struck by the wonderful, and all-too familiar lust for power. For more. She idly wondered what Emma's heart would feel like, devoid of whatever magical barrier kept her from taking it. Just the thought of it filled her with dark wanting.

Regina sighed, shaking away the feeling with effort.

She handed the thudding, glowing heart to Emma indelicately. The Mayor missed the cursed organ instantly, her hand feeling bereft. Swan turned, her long fingers cupping the radiant shard of Graham's soul. It was scolding to the touch, singing skin with magical warmth.

It was wondrous, this feeling of utter control, to immerse herself in whatever made up the former Hunter. And Emma suddenly understood a lot of the darker desires that made up the Evil Queen. This small sliver of power made her weak in the knees with possibilities. Her eyes flicked over for the briefest of moments, meeting Regina's dark chocolate.

The brunette smiled knowingly.

Emma shivered in response. Something very close to lust tickled her spine. She hurriedly pressed her hands inside his eerily still chest. He arched, even in the strange magical coma that Regina had placed him in, his body yearned for its captive heart to be returned. It settled easily, shifting out of her hands and into his frightfully empty chest.

A soft sigh escaped Graham's pale lips, the Huntsman finally whole after years of servitude.

The blonde stood wearily, her cool palm lingering against his scruffy cheek. She kept it there for several seconds, watching his face brighten even in rest. Emma had started to love him once, not so long ago. Mouth tugging up into a saddened smile, she wondered very briefly what life would have been like if that love had been allowed to flourish.

Stepping away from him, she turned to find Regina already half way out the door. It took the blonde several long strides before she caught up the subtly fleeing mayor. She caught the brunette's arm, tugging the smaller woman towards her easily. Regina's lips curled into a snarl, eyes shimmering a hateful purple.

"You did good."

The Mayor relaxed marginally, her posture still primed for a fight.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean Miss Swan. You made your case, and I agreed."

She yanked her arm free; brushing clean whatever smudge the blonde's hand may have left. Emma stepped closer, a serene smile gracing her healing face.

"Admit it Regina, it felt pretty great to be one of the good guys again."

Regina shook her head, refusing the Sheriff's words. On a whim, Emma lifted the brunette's chin gently with her index finger. She dipped her head; lips feather light as they brushed over the brunette's expensive lipstick. They pulled away from each other, Emma smitten, Regina frightened beyond words.

Brows twitching, her eyes glossing over with too much emotion, the brunette leaned forward once more.

5-5-5

They walked up the driveway in awkward silence.

Regina's expression was stony, yet her eyes were swimming with something Emma couldn't place. It looked like a strange mixture of confusion, anger and longing. Her Regina had walked around wearing this same tortured look for over a year as the Charmings had slowly stripped away her life.

It made the Sheriff wonder if she wasn't doing the same all over again.

As they cleared the mansion's doorway, they froze. Strips of paper and wooden debris covered the entryway. Dot matrix prints papered the stairs leading up to the second story. Emma peered around the landing, eyes zeroing in on the office that stood like a gaping hole at the bottom of the hallway. The door was gone, splintered wood the only thing left of the frame.

Lifting her hands, she motioned for the mayor to stay near the exit, out of sight.

Easing down the hallway, Emma made a slow beeline to the mansion's office. Her breath came in shallow, nervous puffs. If she glanced down, she was sure her hammering heartbeat could be seen through her stolen Voltron shirt. As a bounty hunter, she had been involved in her fair share of house clearing, but it had always turned her nerves into liquid fear.

Reaching the office door, the Sheriff leaned back, peering around the ruined door jam. The heavy maple desk was overturned, one of the legs broken away like a rotting tooth. Filing cabinets that had obviously once dominated the walls, sat overturned and thrown open. They were obviously the source of all the dot matrix carnage.

Taking a deep, steadying breath she forced her heart to slow. It took several long minutes for her to move through the oddly large office. She stepped over the desk's decimated drawers, wood and stationary sprinkled heavily. Even the books were torn from the walls, the pages bent and mangled.

She checked the small adjacent bathroom, and circled around slowly to take in the rest of the downstairs. Emma came to a stop in the middle of the mansion's office, letting out a relieved puff of air as her search finished.

She felt Regina come up behind her, the mayor's scent spicy and strangely soothing. If you thought sexy harbingers of death were soothing.

"Looks like someone's torn apart your office looking for….something."

"There's nothing here. Its mostly duplicates of the town's records I keep in my office at Town Hall."

Emma turned away, thoughtful. The intruder hadn't touched anything except the office files. They hadn't even bothered to make it look like a generic break-in. She circled the debris, eyes trailing over the torn and mangled manila folders. They looked mostly like personnel files.

Blonde head tilting, she shifted the papers with the tip of her left boot. The faces staring back at her looked disheveled, tired. Sick. She crouched down to get a better look at the tortured faces in front of her. Storybrooke General Hospital letterhead capped each delicate page.

Without taking her eyes from the littered floor, she spoke quietly to the hovering Mayor. "Why do you have patient files for the mental health ward?"

Sauntering footsteps circled slowly. "I'm part of the review panel for patient releases."

"Do you know why someone would want to dig through your records?" Emma's head tilted, giving the brunette a long, sideways glance. "Are you hiding something?"

Regina smiled, her scar standing out beautifully against her maroon stained lips. "Of course not Miss Swan. What would I have to hide?"

The Sheriff turned away to hide her frustration; she knew that Regina liked to bury her secrets with the hospital basement being one of many graves.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Warmth clung heavily, making her feel drunk and wonderfully loose-limbed Emma tried to shift away, her body craving cooler air, but froze as she realized she was tangled up in someone else. And this someone was practically curled up in her lap, legs and arms wrapped securely around every inch of her. A someone who smelled of autumn.

Cracking open a curious eye, she gazed down at the Mayor.

Emma tried to untangle her long limbs slowly. Regina seemed to cling tighter, hands burrowing into her hanging tank. It took her a long minute to slink away, her lean muscles lengthening almost gracefully. Slithering free, she padded from the living room, her bare feet slapping lightly against the cool, solid wood flooring.

These little touches of elegance and wealth made the former foster child feel small, a feeling she hadn't been able to shake in the few short years she had known the former Queen. Emma assumed she would always be overwhelmed by the finer things in life, especially Regina.

As she entered the whitewashed kitchen, she struggled to remember exactly how she had ended up spooning the smaller woman. They had spent hours cleaning up the office, the Sheriff probing gently, questioning where the many patients mingling in the mental health ward had come from. How a town so small could have so many sick.

Until finally, Regina had snapped at her, the limits of her patience finally being reached.

Subtly was never one of Emma's talents.

They had retired to the living room with the Mayor pausing at one of her many drinks alcoves for two glasses of cider. The atmosphere had been tired and tense, until finally Regina had mumbled quietly into her tumbler.

"Some people are hidden away for their own safety, not just for the safety of others."

Dark eyes lifted to bore into pale green.

"Sometimes you have to save people from themselves." The brunette took a long pull from her cider. "From darkness."

And Emma had reached out to tug the other woman closer, to chase away the darkness that always seem to crowd in and chase away the light from Regina's eyes…

Regina had struggled, her hands pushing painfully at the blonde's straining chest. The Sheriff let her hands drop, allowing the brunette to shove the taller woman several feet away. Those same dark eyes that had looked so vulnerable only moments before burned with rage.

"Don't mistake my earlier actions for affection Miss Swan. I'm not one to allow such weakness."

_Weakness_. Cora had accused Emma and Snow of such a fault, when the old witch had tried to tear away her heart. Love had protected her then. Love for Henry and the friends she was coming to call parents. And although it was slow to dawn, her love of Regina.

It looked like Cora Mills had instilled her hatred of all the warmer shades of emotion in her daughter as well. It made the blonde ache for the childhood Regina must have endured. Not for the first time, Emma found herself wondering how such a child had grown up to find love, even if that love had eventually destroyed her.

Her resolve solidified. Patience and a quiet comfort would be her weapons of choice. Regina may not want love now, but having seen the woman gentled by her love of Henry, Emma knew she would be open to love eventually. Even if she had to wait thirty or so years to see it.

Breathing hard, the smaller woman had turned away, her unsteady hands reaching once more for her glass. Emma bit back an apology. She refused to utter anything akin to an excuse for her actions.

They ended up on either side of the couch, Regina eyeing her wearily, Emma trying hard to appear unassuming and small. As weariness had started to catch up with the brunette, her legs had started to slacken. Her body had slowly started to tilt to her left, inching towards the blonde who was afraid to even breathe.

Now Emma sat perched on the edge of a stool, forearms resting on the massive marble topped island that dominated the huge kitchen. A cooling cup of coffee sat in front of her. Something kept niggling at the back of her mind, a puzzle piece over the last few days that didn't quite fit.

Who else besides Regina would be interested in bringing magic back to Storybrooke? Who else would know of the Evil Queen's propensity to bury her enemies in nut houses. Nut houses hidden away in hospital basements. She tried not to dwell too much on all the secrets Regina had buried around town, whether below her father's body, or beneath the town's aging ICU.

And Emma had the strange thought that maybe, just maybe, the Mayor thought she was doing most of them a favor.

She rubbed her forehead wearily, a serious headache starting to form just behind her eyes. It started to pulse in time with her heartbeat the longer she dwelled. Standing, Emma finally realized that hiding in the shadows wasn't going to get her answers. It surely wasn't going to get her Henry.

6-6-6

Downtown was still and calm. Tendrils of power still trickled down each and every street like some strange rainy drain off. And no one noticed. People walked through plum tinted mist, the trailing edge of their trousers and dresses staining violet. Head canted, Emma watched them for a few short minutes.

The newspaper stands mentioned something about a non-lethal chemical spill that had taken over parts of downtown. Storybrooke's citizens accepted it without comment, without so much as a second glance at the florescent violet that bleached everything.

Regina's curse was truly something to behold.

Making a beeline for the small town hospital, she clutched the remnants of Regina's office files. The Queen wasn't overly helpful in telling her what was missing from them, so she had decided to go to the source. She wasn't overly confident in her ability to get the hospital staff to talk, given doctor-patient confidentiality, but maybe the local law could help.

So she had taken the time to call Graham, notifying him of the late night burglary at the Mayor's Mansion. He had been miffed at her having been at Regina's so late, but worried enough to shrug off his jealousy if only temporarily. Although the former bondswoman worried they'd have an uncomfortable conversation about this one later.

She met the Sheriff just outside the hospital's sliding glass doors. He looked…good. The almost constant tiredness that dragged down his features was gone, replaced by an attentiveness she had never seen in him before. It made her yearn in a way that was both familiar, and saddening.

They entered the hospital together, Graham naturally taking the lead as they approached the horribly beige colored reception desk. Eighties color palettes were really starting to grind.

"Excuse me, we're looking to speak with someone who manages the psychiatric ward?"

Graham held up his badge for good measure, his smile disarming and innocent.

"Just need to ask you some routine questions. The Mayor sent me."

6-6-6

"There's only one missing."

Graham slid the manila folder closer, forcing Emma to stare down into Belle's pale face. Everything started to click sluggishly into place, and the blonde was loath to admit it had taken her this long to see it. To see the deception. Bile started to gurgle painfully in her throat. She had always thought of herself as being ever so clever.

Regina used to tease her that she had inherited Snow's blind desire to see the best in people. The Mayor had been right. It was going to cost her everything, her desire to see more in Rumple than a cheating monster. For Neal, for Henry. For herself.

Henry had never come through the portal with her. She had spent these last few months searching for a ghost. A figment of a future it was looking like she would never have.

"Is she still there?"

The Sheriff nodded absently. "Yeah, checked that first. She's safe and sound in the basement."

"The basement? Why the hell would mental patients get put away there?"

"I asked Dr. Whale that, he said it was the only way to secure them. The rest of the hospital doesn't naturally lock down, or have a way of keeping the most dangerous patients segregated from the rest of the community. So, basement it is."

Emma shook her head in disgust. Sick or not, people deserved freedom. They deserved justice.

And Rumpelstiltskin deserved justice more than most.

6-6-6

She had parked well away from the road, ensuring her arrival would be a surprise. Michael wouldn't miss the behemoth of a vehicle for several days, handy for this particular excursion out into the woods. It had taken to off-roading easily, allowing her to bypass the secondary roads completely.

Knocking closed the door with her shoulder, Emma hooked the Maglite into her belt while checking the numerous speed loaders she had pilfered. Well, borrowed from Sheriff's Office. Whatever she found lurking in the woods, mythical or mortal, she would be ready.

It took almost half an hour to reach the fabled well, the portal between realms that had saved her and her mother. It still poured forth deep violet swirls of fog. It blanketed the stonework and the surrounding trees before thinning out into a satiny mist. It was a strangely beautiful contrast against the fall colors that painted the surrounding woods.

The well's foundation was cracked and broken, bits of masonry littering the ground around it. Something powerful had almost decimated the well. Something different than what had come before, from whatever had brought magic to Storybrooke almost thirty years later.

Crouching, she brushed away the thin layer of recently fallen leaves. Tire tracks fled away from the well and into the gravel covered road leading back into town. The tread was thick, deep, with a zigzagging pattern to ward off snow. Goodyear tires. Cadillac DeVilles shipped with such tires.

The pimp she had tracked down to the East Side of Philly had favored the same make and model of car as Mr. Gold. Maybe power hungry assholes liked the air cushioned ride and wealth of trunk space. Or maybe that just had horrible tastes in rides.

It started to rain.

Emma made her way back to the idling SUV, pointing it towards the faint trail leading away from Storybrooke.

6-6-6

Two faint silhouettes drifted through the thin sheets of mist. Emma's eyes strained to make them out as they shifted in and out of focus. One was definitely a woman, her thin frame swaying daintily from the hips. The other a man, easily readable from his larger shoulders. A man with an exaggerated limp.

Swan stepped out into the wet, glistening asphalt. Righteous and angry.

It was Gold, but not the younger version she had been harassing. This was _her_ Gold, his eyes too sharp and full of knowledge. One of his gloved hands pulled someone closer to his back, shielding them from view. Emma didn't need to see the brunette to know who Rumple had travelled back through time to collect. Not for the first time, the blonde wondered what version of her friend she would be presented with.

Belle peeked over his shoulder; her hands slithered between his arms to wrap possessively around his waist. The young woman's smile was too wide and too…predatory. She wasn't Belle, not just yet. Lacey hugged the Dark One close, her need for power dovetailing perfectly with his lust for her.

"You came through with me. I had hoped it was Henry, but no, you took your Grandson's place."

Rumple merely shrugged, his smile crooked and unapologetic.

"You'll get him back, just wait a few years. Maybe now you can make sure he doesn't turn into such an ungrateful little shit."

Emma's lip curled in distaste. "You're not leaving here with her, and certainly not with magic at your disposal."

"And how do you plan on stopping me Sherriff?"

The blonde vaguely remembered starting to slide her service revolver free, the weight of it sparking confidence. Before it could come away completely, Rumple's hands lifted, fingers dancing in some complex choreography. The world tilted, the smooth asphalt rushing up to meet her face. Consciousness left her with a thud.

She awoke several minutes later to the sound of a fading engine. Emma took to her feet in a queasy tangle of limbs. Her left eye was starting to swell shut, distorting her field of vision as she clawed her way back to her borrowed ride. Forest debris pulled at her, taking up precious seconds as she slid along the leaf-covered ground.

The Savior couldn't let him leave, couldn't let him destroy whatever delicate fate lay in store for the town and her family. The rain made her fingers annoying slick, slipping as she frantically tried to yank open the ancient Ford's heavy steel door. After several tries, Emma threw herself into the driver's seat, slamming both feet into the gas pedal a fraction of a second after the heap wheezed to life.

Rumple's brand new Cadillac was speeding towards the town line, the engine roaring hungrily. The Sherriff didn't have much time and her options were quickly dwindling. The magical barrier was still intact, its unique power a complete unknown. She was terrified of whatever Gold's recklessness would bring to the fledgling town.

Cutting through the small sliver of woods that paralleled the small, winding trickle of asphalt, she sped up, desperate to cut off the fleeing man. Emma swerved sharply, tires squealing as she threw the old Bronco into the lone road leading out of Storybrooke.

She missed the freshly painted Welcome sign by inches. Gold's car was now within sight, careening tightly as the pawnshop owner sped greedily towards her. She had successfully cut him off, but she was the only thing standing between them and the border. They were on each other in seconds, Rumple rushing forward to freedom, the Sherriff rushing back to stop him.

She closed her eyes tightly against the painfully bright headlights, the tiny rivers of rain on her windshield turning to sharp prisms. Her left arm rose, shielding her face a fraction of a second before her world exploded with bright shards. She felt her seat belt catch, and then give way, sending her crashing into the steering wheel and through the ancient windshield.

The entire piece of glass came away with her body, both tumbling into the road as the SUV swerved away angrily. It took several seconds before her body came to a stop, glass and rubber fanning around her. She heard more than saw her borrowed car slam into the nearby periphery of forest. The force of it made her ears pop with sound.

Emma curled in on herself, blood, skin and flesh pooling around her. Nothing felt right as her bones shifted, slick and unsteady as they ground together. Her face was broken, giving way far too much as she rested against the rough pavement. Agony was too weak a word for Gold's sudden gift of pain.

The blonde felt unconsciousness starting to crowd in, darkness bubbling at the edges of her world. She was dimly aware of the sound of feet…steps…heels. Regina. Swan wanted to scream out a warning, to convey Rumple's newfound power. Her throat wouldn't produce anything more than a weak gurgle, the vocal chords tangled and caught in her bleeding throat.

A green eye opened to a slit, desperate to track the Mayor's movements. Perfect calves came into view, a knee-length pencil skirt hugging shapely thighs. The Sheriff smiled brokenly into the pavement at the sight of the immaculately dressed brunette. Emma couldn't focus too hard or for too long, the mangled bits of her trying to pull her into the ever-increasing darkness.

Fire flashed, forcing the broken woman to flinch for the second time in minutes. Angry screams filled the night air, coupled with the sounds of violence and fear. Belle's voice rang out distantly, in sharp, staccato rhythm. Regina's voice answered, low and throaty. Emma never heard Rumple speak, never heard anything beyond the crack of his magic.

The darkness finally came, sucking the blonde in whole.


End file.
